Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
"Why are they looking at me like that?” I mutter to him, and he peers around, as though he had hardly noticed it in the first place.
"Probably just wondering where you came from," he replies. "Not many new faces around here. Well, not till recently, anyway..."
He doesn’t elaborate any further on that and I think better of pressing for more. He seems like the kind of guy who will talk when he’s ready and not before, and I am not going to go insisting he share everything that’s in his head.
"I doubt they’d believe me even if I told them," I mutter, mostly to myself.
"And what would you tell them?" he asks, as he reaches the cart, planting a hand on the horse’s neck as though in greeting before he tosses the satchel into the back.
"What do you mean...?”
"Why’d you end up all the way out here, if you were teachin’ at some university?”
"Oh, uh, my boyfriend cheated on me."
He turns to me, incredulous.
"Your boyfriend?”
"My...the man I was betrothed to," I reply, trying to put it in a way he might understand. "Turned out he was...seeing another woman at the same time as me. Well, a few other women, actually..."
He snorts.
"What an asshole."
I can’t help but laugh.
"Yeah, he really was," I agree. There’s something relieving about hearing someone else talk about him like that, as though it’s confirming everything that I’ve been thinking all this time. It's hard for me to believe that I didn’t deserve it on some level, given how hard I worked, but the way Cade talks about it, it’s like it should be obvious.
We head back to the house, where Lucy has already left to run some errands. I take the dress upstairs, and slip out of the one I’m wearing to try it on.
And it fits a whole lot better – the light blue fabric flares out around my feet, the bodice fitting me neatly rather than crushing me into place. But, as I try to reach behind me to do up the ribbons, I wince – I can already feel myself straining my shoulder to try and make it fit, and any more pushing and I’ll wrench the damn thing out. I need help.
And there’s only one person who can give it to me.
"Cade!” I call out. Now that we’ve gone some way to bridging the gap between us, I figure he won’t balk at actually giving me a hand. A moment later, I hear footsteps outside the door, and it cracks open to reveal him on the other side.
"What is it?”
His sleeves are rolled up, as though he was in the middle of something – his forearms flex with muscle, and I do my best not to let my gaze linger on them for too long.
I’m not used to being around a guy like this, a guy who works with his hands, who has his strength written all over his body.
"I need help getting this done up," I reply, gesturing to the back of my dress. "You think you can help?"
"Never been good at this stuff," he warns me, as he makes his way towards me. As he stands behind me, I am suddenly distinctly aware of the warmth on the back of my neck from his breath, the smell of him filling the air around me.
I know I shouldn’t even let my mind stray in that direction, but there’s something about it I can’t deny, something about it I don’t want to be done with, at least not so soon.
"Dammit," he mutters, his mouth so close to my ear that I can feel the grunt of his breath as well as hear it.
"What is it?" I ask.
"I need to start from scratch," he replies, as he starts to undo the ribbons. "You’ve made a mess of this..."
"Sorry," I blurt out, but he shakes his head.
"I probably will, too," he murmurs in assurance, as he starts to slowly undo the ribbons, tugging them apart. When he reaches the bottom, the back of the bodice gapes open, and my bare back is exposed to him – even though I’m still wearing more clothes right now than I was when they picked me up on the side of the road, I can’t help but feel distinctly naked.
And, I notice, his hands still for a moment – his fingertips graze along my spine, sending an explosion of tingles flooding my entire body. I draw in a sharp breath, unable to hold it back, and out of the corner of my eye, I can feel him looking at me. He makes no move to continue his work on the ribbon, leaving me there, the dress gaping at the back, his hands against my skin...
And, before I can think twice, I move back against him, letting his hands slip beneath the dress – it falls away as he slides his hands around my waist, his mouth coming to the curve of my neck, his breath hot against my skin.