Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I’m close enough to hear her breath hitch, and fuck, that makes me want her that much more. I want to make her lose her breath completely, steal it away into my own lungs so I can share it back with her. Her body leans into mine, and I’m at least 50 percent sure it’s unconscious. I’m not sure she’s even aware of how her chest presses against mine, but I am acutely aware of the soft fullness behind the creak of her plastic apron.
And while I realize how unsexy that should be, I am utterly and completely gone for this woman. Unexpected and inconvenient as it may be, it’s true. I’m seeing life with her at my side, listening to random animal facts, watching her spread sunshine everywhere she goes, and reassuring her when her demons try to whisper in her ear.
But her protective walls are still up, tall as ever around her heart. I have to be patient. That hasn’t changed. At least not for her.
“Here, let me get the rest of this.” I pick up the shovel and scoop a few more piles of hippo poop into the wheelbarrow. It’s the easiest way to relieve some of the physical need inside me right now.
I’m putting my energies into manual labor and trying my best to hold myself back from her, like the gentleman I’d like her to think I am. Don’t get me wrong, I have manners. My parents made sure of that. But the things I want to do to Briar are not gentlemanly in the slightest.
This is how you romance a woman like Briar. Not with poetry and sonnets, but by hauling a heavy wheelbarrow full of dung with her.
Briar has started singing will.i.am’s “Big and Chunky” into her shovel handle again, making hippo cleanup my new favorite part of today because this song comes with some butt shaking that she probably thinks is silly, but looks damn sexy to me.
Briar leans the shovel handle my way and, on cue, I chime in with my part of the song.
When she smiles, I feel like I could do this forever.
“Dom?” I see my name on Harley’s lips as Briar walks out of the school’s front doors with him. And then he’s running toward the car, all school rules temporarily forgotten.
I open the door, getting out to greet him and crossing onto the sidewalk just to make sure he doesn’t plow into someone in his excitement. “Hey, kid. How was school?”
“Who cares? What’re you doing here? Do we have practice?” In his excitement, the words rush out as one long, run-on sentence.
“No, Dominic helped me at the zoo today, so I promised him dinner as a thank-you,” Briar explains.
“Pizza?” he asks, peering at Briar hopefully.
Instead of answering, she gives him one of the head-tilty mom looks that silently says absolutely not and you know better than to ask so why did you. I can’t help but grin.
“I was thinking spaghetti and meatball tacos,” Briar tells Harley.
Obviously, I know what spaghetti and meatballs are. I know what tacos are too. But the word combination Briar just said does not make sense in the slightest. “Huh?”
Harley has all but forgotten his pizza idea as he rushes to explain that Briar’s going to put noodles and meatballs inside a French bread shell that they eat like a taco, hence spaghetti and meatball tacos.
“That sounds . . . interesting?” I say, not sure if it’s extra efficient or extra messy, but figuring I’ll find out.
In the end, it’s actually both in equal measure.
Harley has sauce spread across his face in an approximation of the Joker’s smile, and I’d bet there’s some up his nose too. I had a meatball fall into my lap, leaving a red smear on my pants that Briar had automatically tried to wipe up, but then she’d squeaked in embarrassment when she realized just how close to my meatballs she was. And now, Briar is grinning at us both like we’re ridiculous. But dinner is delicious. I’m more carbed up than I’d typically be prior to a game, but it’s all good.
“Shower time,” she tells Harley, motioning to her face in a reminder that he needs to do an extra thorough cleaning. “It’s a school night.”
Harley starts to leave the kitchen, but pauses to look back at me uncertainly. “You’ll be here when I get out, right?”
Nodding, I assure him easily. “Of course.”
I’m still staring at the doorway where he left when Briar says, “It’s good for him to see that.” I turn my attention to her, my brows lifted. She licks her lips before hesitantly explaining, “Tyler always says he’ll do something and then doesn’t. I know how much that hurts, so I make sure to always keep my promises to him. No matter how big or small. You saying you’ll be here and then actually staying might seem like no big deal, but it’s important to Harley.”