Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
I walk back into the bathroom, combing through my hair before flipping my head upside down and shaking my hands through it. When I walk back into the living room, he’s waiting for me on the couch. He’s wearing another pair of jeans, with a black T-shirt, his feet in a clean pair of boots. “You look nice,” he compliments, getting up and coming to me. His hair looks like he just ran his hands through it, and I know that is exactly what he did. His hand grips my waist as he pulls me to him. “I like this.” His thumb rubs the little holes in the dress. “A lot.” He looks at me, smirking. “Going to like you out of it more.”
“We could stay home?” I raise my eyebrows, wanting nothing more than to stay with him inside this house, where I can touch him, where he can touch me, where it’s just the two of us.
“No.” He slips his hand in mine. “You got all dressed up.” He walks to the front door, turning off the alarm before arming it for us to be out of the house.
He doesn’t let go of my hand when we walk out, which is new. Even when we get to the bar and I get out, he walks to the back of the truck, meeting me there. “Do you want to eat at the bar?”
“We can,” I reply, expecting him to walk beside me, which he does, but his fingers graze mine a couple of times before he finally gives in and holds my hand. Our fingers intertwine with each other’s. My head spins when we walk in, and I see a couple of the people we work with here smile at us, and then their eyes fly to our hands.
I’m expecting him to drop my hand, but instead, he pulls me to the table where the guys are. “Hey,” he says, pulling out an empty chair and finally letting go of my hand so I can sit down. Then he goes to the empty chair beside me. “You guys eating or just drinking?” he asks, as if it’s the most natural thing for us to arrive together, holding hands. He reaches out to grab the two menus that are on the table.
“How’re you feeling?” Sammy finally asks me, and I look up at him, the beer in his hand on his way to his mouth. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I reply, clearing my throat when it sounds like a frog is sitting in it.
“You want a burger?” Emmett says from beside me, not taking his eyes off the menu.
“That sounds good,” I say as the server comes to the table and takes a couple of the orders. I turn to Sammy to talk to him while Emmett turns to talk to Bobby on the other side of him, his arm going around my chair.
“Do you know why she got spooked?” Sammy asks me, and with everything going on, I’m tongue-tied. “Probably a bird,” he says. “I went to check her after, and she was quiet.”
“I’m going to go and check on her later,” I tell him as the food comes to the table.
We eat side by side. The talk at the table is all of us together now and no little side chats. I laugh at a story Sammy tells about unloading a couple of the new horses, and one of them kicked him in the nuts, and he saw stars. The whole table laughs at the animated way he is telling the story, and when I lean back in the chair, Emmett leans over and whispers in my ear, “Are you ready to go?” I look over at him, a smile on my face, and I just nod.
He pushes away from the table. “Okay, boys, we’re out.” Bobby’s head goes to the side, and his eyes go wide. “Ready?” He looks down at me, and I avoid looking at anyone as I push my chair away from the table.
“See you guys on Monday,” I say, smiling at them as a couple of them share a look with each other when Emmett reaches out and slips his hand in mine.
When we are outside, I turn and look at him. “Everyone saw you holding my hand.”
“Yeah.” That’s all he says as we walk to the truck.
“Um, yeah,” I add, “there is already gossip going around because I’m living with you.”
“There is gossip when I yell at you also,” he replies, not even fazed over what I’m saying. “There is always gossip.” He stops by the passenger side of the truck. “Does it bother you?”
“A bit,” I admit to him. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“Not even a little.” His head goes to the side, and the last thing I see is his smile before his mouth is on mine. “There,” he finally says when he steps back, “that should give them more to talk about.”