Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
When I open the door, he’s there. Without a word, he picks me up yet again like I’m nothing but air, and carries me to my spot on the couch. “Do you have any popcorn?” he asks.
“Yeah, it’s in the pantry.”
“I’m going to get you a fresh one of these.” He picks up the ice pack from the table. “And I’ll make us some. What do you want to drink?”
“I have some tea still.”
He nods. “Be right back.”
I must be in some kind of alternate universe. I don’t understand why he’s still here, or why he’s hell-bent on staying around. He knows he’s not getting laid tonight, or at least he should.
“Here.” He places a fresh towel and ice pack over my ankle. “It’s too early for these, but I saw them in the cabinet and wanted to bring them to you, so you didn’t have to get up for them later.” He sets a bottle of Advil and a bottle of water on the table beside me. Before I can thank him, he’s back in the kitchen and returning with two more bottles of water and a huge bowl of popcorn.
That’s how the rest of our night goes. We watch the rest of the movie, and he starts another. By the time it’s over, I’m exhausted and ready for bed. “I’m going to clean up.” He stands and picks up the bowl and the now empty water bottles. “Then I’ll help you to bed.”
“I can manage.”
“I’m sure you can, but you don’t have to since I’m here.” He walks off.
Who does he think he is? Yes, he did me a solid today, and I appreciate it, but I can manage just fine on my own. Standing, I begin to hop down the hall to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I stop about halfway even though my hallway is not all that long, to take a breather.
“What are you doing, Em?” Strong hands grip my hips, and his hot breath caresses my ear.
“I’m getting ready for bed.”
“Not without me,” he says, and I swear he leans in just a little closer.
“I can manage. Thank you for everything. Will you please make sure the door is locked on your way out?” I ask, dismissing him.
“Right after I put you to bed.” I squeal when he lifts me off my feet, just from his grip on my hips. “Which room is yours?” he asks from behind me.
“Put me down.”
“I can do this all day, Em. Which room is yours?”
“I need to brush my teeth.” I give in. There is no use fighting with him.
“We can do that.” He carries me to the end of the hall and doesn’t put me on my feet until I’m standing in front of the sink. “Do your thing.” He motions to the sink as he lowers the lid on the toilet and takes a seat.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
“Nope.”
“Landon, just go. I’m fine. I don’t need you here in my house packing me around like I’m a toddler. I can handle it. I appreciate you wanting to help, but I can manage on my own.”
“And I can stay until you’re ready for bed.”
“You’re not going to be here in the middle of the night or in the morning when I’m getting ready. I’m a big girl, Number Eighteen. I can manage.”
“Maybe I should stay,” he muses.
“No! You are not staying here.”
“Then do what you need to do, let me tuck you in, and you won’t have to see me again until tomorrow morning.”
“Gah! You are so damn frustrating.”
He nods. “So I’ve been told.”
Needing this day to be over, I rush through washing my face and brushing my teeth. I don’t tell him I’m done. Instead, I turn and start to walk, well, hop out the bathroom door. He slides up to my side, places his arm around me, and lets me lean on him as we make our way to my bedroom.
“Which one is yours?”
“This one.” I point to the door on the right side of the hallway. The door is open, and thankfully, my bed is made, and there is nothing in plain sight that shouldn’t be, at least from a quick glance. We make it to the bed, and I sit down.
“Where are your pajamas?”
“I can get it, Landon,” I say, exasperated.
“So can I. You can change while I go get the meds and bottle of water. Then I’ll go. Promise.”
“Top drawer.” I point to my dresser. Just as he opens the drawer, I remember that’s where I put the card from the flowers. Silently, I cross my fingers, hoping it’s slid to the bottom and he doesn’t notice it.
I’m not that lucky.
“Aw, you kept it.” He holds up the little white envelope between his fingers, and of course, those damn dimples appear.