Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
He swallows hard as he stares at me.
“Pretty cool, right?” I say, feeling my pulse race with the way he’s looking at me like he can’t believe it.
“I’m happy you wrote it,” he says after a long moment. “It brought you here, tonight, and I’m grateful for that.”
“Thanks,” I say, a little confused. We clink glasses and I take a sip of the foamy stout.
I spot Leanne by the pool table flirting with a tall guy in flannel. He has the whole lumberjack vibe going on with a full beard and a beanie on his head. All he’s missing is an axe slung over his shoulder.
By the way Leanne is looking up at him with thirsty eyes, I bet she’s going to be playing with his wood all night long.
Boone is so handsome up close with his dark hair all perfectly messy and his strong jaw with the sexy stubble coating it. But it’s his eyes that really get me. They’re so intense. Brown with these warm flecks of gold that catch the light when he looks at me. They’re full of… possession. Like he knows I’m his. Like he already knows it in his very core.
“Do you live nearby?” he asks.
I start rambling. Rambling. I tell him that I live about forty minutes away in a larger town and somehow that morphs into me talking about my landlord and all of his health issues, and all of the gossip in my apartment building and how Mrs. Wright called the cops on me for parking an inch over my parking spot line. It’s bad. I must ramble on for five minutes without taking a breath.
“I’m sorry,” I say when I finally catch myself.
“For what?” he asks, tilting his head, looking confused.
“My family and friends always say I talk too much,” I say, feeling my cheeks getting hot. “They say I can ramble on with the best of them.”
“Don’t apologize for that,” he says in that calm way of his. “I could listen to you talk for the rest of my life.”
You might have to. I think it, but I don’t say it.
I have to turn away from those intense sexy eyes. Having them burning on me is too much. I feel like I might pass out.
My neck keeps tingling like crazy and I have no idea why.
“I can’t believe you lifted that giant tree all by yourself,” I say, getting all worked up and flustered picturing it again. “Are you like a lumberjack or something?”
“Sometimes.”
Ooh, a lumberjack? Hot. “Elaborate please.”
“I mostly live off the mountain,” he says. “But sometimes I take a logging job in the summer for extra money. And once every few years, I head up north and hop on a boat to do some king crab fishing with a crew. That lasts me for a while. I don’t need much.”
I picture this man swinging an axe into a thick trunk or tossing heavy crates into the freezing cold Arctic Ocean and I don’t know why, but it gets me going something fierce.
“Well thanks for lifting the tree,” I say, my heart doing strange little flips in my chest. “You really saved the night. And my segment.”
“I didn’t like seeing you upset,” he says, his eyes softening on me.
“You mean, the town upset.”
He shakes his head. “No. I mean you.”
“You noticed me?”
“How could I not? You’re the most breathtaking girl I’ve ever seen. Once I saw you, I couldn’t look away.”
There’s not a lot of men in this world who can shut me up, but this man keeps taking all the words out of my mouth. I’m speechless.
“I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
“For what?” I ask with a chuckle. “Immortalizing your heroics on the nightly news?”
“For saving my life.”
I laugh and lightly bat his forearm, thinking he’s joking. He’s not.
“You didn’t even hesitate,” he says, those sexy eyes practically melting me. “With the rifle. You leaped on the Sheriff like a badass superhero.”
Oh. That. I’m lucky I’m not in a cell right now. The Sheriff was so distracted with the grizzly bear and getting the festival back in order that he probably forgot that I must have broken at least half a dozen laws with that crazed reaction.
But how did that save his life?
“You saw that, huh?” I say, dragging my fingertip up my pint glass.
“First hand,” he says in a low voice. “It was pointed at my head.”
I look up at him slowly.
“What do you mean, your head?” I ask. “You weren’t—”
He just watches me, steady and quiet.
I frown. “I don’t follow.”
There’s a subtle shift in the air around us. I feel it tingling on my skin. The noise of the bar fades into the background as all of my focus centers on Boone. He sets his beer down with deliberate care and leans in just a little.