Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Her eyes stay pinned on me as I approach. The foyer is too small for the both of us. I tower over her as I reach for her bag.
“Here, let me get this,” I say, already sliding it off her arm.
She winces and rolls out her shoulder, glad to let me take it.
“This is too heavy,” I chide, looking down at it. “You need all this for work?”
“Unfortunately…”
I try to think of some solution. She’s small. This bag easily weighs twenty pounds. How far does she have to walk with it?
“Maybe you could get one of those rolling cart things instead?”
She gifts me a tentative smile. “Like grannies use for their groceries?”
“Hey, don’t knock it,” Nick chimes in with a mouth full of chips. “Those things rock. I have one.”
Tate glances over my shoulder at him, and the change is immediate. Her expression softens and the storm lurking behind her gaze begins to settle, but then she peers back at me and her brows tug together. The spark between us feels as obvious as a match strike.
“Yeah, maybe I’ll get one of those,” she says, looking up at me, studying my face. What’s she looking for?
“Tate, if you want to shower before dinner, you better do it now,” Sophia calls out. “I’m taking the lasagna out and it needs to rest for about ten minutes before I serve it.”
“Okay, I’ll be fast!”
She moves like she’s going to take her bag back, but I shake my head. “Where’s your room?”
If she’s going to shower here, she must live here too. Thanks for the heads-up, Josh.
“This one,” she says, curving around me, careful not to brush up against me as she leads the way to a door off the living room, just to the left of the TV.
I could follow her inside and shut the door behind us, but I stop on the threshold and set her bag down on a narrow dresser that’s within reach. Her room is a tiny space, just big enough to house a queen bed, a side table, and her dresser. There’s a cluster of prints hanging above her bed, a lot of framed photos. I see one that includes Luke, and I ignore the tight dread in the pit of my stomach.
“Thanks,” she says, nodding toward the bag. She’s already removing her hospital I.D. badge and untucking her scrub top from her pants.
I should leave. She needs to shower, but I’m rooted to my spot. I stand there staring at her in disbelief.
When she left that party, it felt like I’d never see her again. We shared that moment—however brief and weird and fun and sexy it was—and I thought that was all we’d get. Now here she is, standing before me like a dream I get to experience for a second time. I’m scared to walk away.
“Where do you work?”
“Manhattan Children’s. I’m an ICU nurse.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Damn.”
“Not quite as impressive as an MLB superstar,” she teases.
She opens her dresser to retrieve clothes she can change into after her shower. A soft white t-shirt, a pair of blue lounge pants. Dainty blue panties…fuck.
I look away.
“You can get to know her later, man!” Nick groans. “Let her shower so we can eat. I’m starving!”
Right. I almost forgot about the audience in earshot of our conversation.
Tate fights back a private smile as she keeps her focus down on her clothes. I wish I had a penny for her thoughts. Is she feeling what I’m feeling? Is her heart racing too?
“Leave her alone! I’m hungry!” Nick continues.
I have no choice but to step back so she can close her door. I expect all eyes to be on me when I turn around, but Josh is the only one looking my way. He shakes his head in warning, but I ignore it. I know the score; he doesn’t need to remind me.
The water turns on in Tate’s bathroom as I take a seat and retrieve my beer. The walls in this place are so paper thin I can hear her every move. Shampoo bottles jostle around. It feels indecent, like we shouldn’t be listening.
But actually, I’m the only one bothered. The guys are talking and watching ESPN. Sophia and Daphne are finishing up in the kitchen. No one else is thinking about—scratch that—no one else is imagining in vivid detail what Tate is doing on the other side of that wall but me.
Daphne and Sophia start passing around plates loaded up with salad, lasagna, and garlic bread just as Tate walks out of her room. I look up because I’m a sucker. She’s fresh-faced and gorgeous. Her dark hair is still damp since she didn’t have time to dry it. It’s long and wild, a few wavy strands hanging over her shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed with color. She’s wearing the t-shirt and lounge pants and her feet are bare. Red polish covers her cute toes.