Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Was that what I’d done? I’d started it thinking it would be a romp through my libidinous subconscious. A way to jumpstart my writing after the Great Block that had slowly transformed into something I could potentially sell. Had I been telling my own story instead?
Had I written a book about falling in love with Wade?
25
AUGUST
“Gus?”
“One minute,” I called, my stomach fluttering as I checked my reflection in the bathroom mirror one last time.
My hair was still on point—the curls were maintaining their magically defined and frizz-free bounce and, more importantly, they were soft to the touch. I didn’t mean to obsess about it, but getting my hair in this condition usually required enough gel to give it a decidedly untouchable hard-candy coating.
Tony was my hero.
I ran a hand down my new periwinkle top. Chick and Bernie had made me buy a few new outfits, along with separate tops for everyday wear because “only college students and IT professionals have closets full of T-shirts with nerdy sayings on them.”
While I thought that was a rude bit of stereotyping, I did like my new options. The colorful vee and sweetheart necklines, along with two brand-new bras, hinted at the glory days of cleavages past and brought out what Chick called my peaches-and-cream complexion.
The shirts were feminine and fun, and when I wore them, I felt feminine and fun as well.
Which only affirmed the wisdom those two sages of sex appeal had laid on me: The shopping wasn’t for Wade. It was for me.
“When you look good, you feel good. And why wouldn’t you want to feel good?”
I stepped into my bedroom, barefoot and wearing black yoga pants with my new shirt. Still comfortable. Still me. But there was an extra swing to my hips that only today’s activities could account for.
Lunch and shopping with friends. It was the kind of normal I’d been craving—the kind that left me energized instead of exhausted. I was topped up with romantic advice and gossip and laughter, and it was helping to balance out the ball of nervous panic that kept hopping from my belly to my throat when I thought about what came next.
A small whine had me looking down at my latest guest.
“You don’t need a makeover,” I told her. “You were born gorgeous.”
Wanda wagged her deep-red tail, her cute wrinkly face pressed against the side of the crate as she struggled to get to Merlin, who’d refused to move an inch from her side since I brought her home. She had no idea she was part of my master plan to show Wade I wanted more than just a renter and a bed warmer. She was too busy being adorable.
“I bet that’s what my sister thought when she brought Tilly home,” I said in a gently soothing tone. “‘Oh, what a sweet little ball of fur. I bet she won’t give me any trouble at all, especially if I get her a brother.’”
Merlin gave me a chiding glance before returning his adoring gaze to Wanda. I’d been sure he wouldn’t like her, but this was definitely a case of love at first sight.
Wade is waiting.
My stomach contracted again as the little voice in the back of my head told me Bernie and Chick were wrong, that they’d misread the signals and he wasn’t looking for some kind of commitment from me, but a way out instead.
I shoved that voice into a mental closet and slammed the door, wishing for a key to lock it so I didn’t have to work so hard to hold it shut.
But I was doing this. One way or the other, I’d have my answer tonight.
“Now behave,” I told Wanda, “so I can dazzle your dad before he finds out you’re here.”
She might not understand me yet, but Merlin did. He stuck his nose into the crate and let the puppy dive-bomb it as a distraction.
Wow. “I owe you one, old man.”
When I walked into the living room, I found Wade looking around in confusion at the flickering candles I’d set out in lieu of turning on the overhead lights.
“Did the power go out again?” he wondered out loud.
“I’m glad you could make it.”
He did a half turn, his eyes flaring with interest when he noticed my new shirt.
He’s noticing your cleavage. The bra does great things for your boobs.
That was acceptable. At least he was still looking.
“Your text said you needed my help. Is it the lights?”
I shrugged. “I was in the mood for candles. Call it hurricane nostalgia.”
“Set the stage. He’s been put out at having to share you these last few weeks. Let him know right away something’s changed.”
He sniffed the air tentatively. “Did Chick get dinner? It smells good.”
“Chick had other plans for the evening, but I made chicken korma. I think it’s going to be too much for me to eat alone.”