Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
“Morning!” I say as I scoop the second omelet I made with vegetables, cheese, and eggs onto a plate and place both dishes on the table.
“Wow. You didn’t have to do this.” He glances at the meal. “But I’m glad you did.”
I hand him a cup of black coffee the way he likes it and settle into the chair beside him. “My pleasure. So what’s on the agenda for today?”
“I thought we’d take a walk. It’s beautiful this time of year. And then I figured we’d come back here and fuck like bunnies until the real world intrudes.” I catch the sinful look in his eyes as he raises his cup and takes a long sip before he turns more serious. “I’m supposed to get a call from the PI I hired. He’s due to update me on my ex—and I asked him to pull someone in and get them looking into your former boss. We need to prove he’s sending someone after you. Otherwise this shit will keep going on and I won’t have it.”
My body goes from tingling at the mention of fucking like bunnies… to ice-cold at the reminder of the trouble waiting for me in the real world.
“Most of that sounds like a really good day.” I force a smile.
He covers my hand with his. “Sorry for the blunt reminder. But we’re going to get ahead of both things. I have faith.”
And I believe in him. “I know.” We finish our meal in silence.
A little while later, we pull on our outerwear and head for a walk. The air is crisp, and it smells like fall, dry leaves, and grass. My mood lightens at the feel of the cool air on my cheeks and the fresh scents all around me.
To my surprise, Austin reaches out and grabs my hand, holding on as we hike through the woods. “So… let’s just get to know each other,” I suggest into the silence. We began on the car ride up, but there is more I want to know. Little things to learn about him and store away in those mental boxes of mine.
“Okay. Favorite color?” he asks.
“Yellow. Yours?”
“Blue.”
I shake my head and laugh. “You’re such a typical man. Favorite music?”
“Classic rock,” he says.
I eye him with amusement.
“What?” he asks.
“You’re just predictable to me.”
We step over rocks and crunchy leaves. “Your favorite music?”
I bite down on my lower lip though I don’t need to think long. “Pop music. Like Taylor Swift and Summer Michelle,” I say of the up-and-coming pop star who won the television show Star Power.
He tugs on my hand, and I meet his gaze. “Ben, who works for Alpha Security, is engaged to Summer. My bet is you’ll be meeting her when her tour comes to New York.”
“Oh my God! That’s amazing!”
He grins at my enthusiasm.
“Okay, let’s keep going. Favorite drink?” I ask.
“Alcoholic or not?”
I shrug. “Both.”
“Beer… and water. I’m not fussy. You?”
“White Russian and a chai latte.”
He laughs. “Okay… favorite holiday?” he asks, picking the next question.
I swallow hard. “You go first,” I say. No matter my sunny outlook on life, holidays were always hard for me. They always will be.
“Thanksgiving,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because it’s about family. I like the traditions. You’ll see this year.” He squeezes my hand more tightly, and a little pang hits me in the heart.
Because they are his family traditions, and I’ll be the outsider looking in. Just as I’ve always been. The nanny to his daughter, not his girlfriend or someone with meaning to him beyond my paid role. Of course, I am sleeping with him, but that doesn’t count.
I bite my lip hard to distract myself.
“Mia? I asked your favorite holiday.”
“Oh. It’s too hard for me to choose,” I lie.
I do my best to get through them all. I don’t love any one in particular, because I don’t have wonderful memories associated with them like he does.
He comes to a halt, pulling me to a stop when I keep going. I take a few steps back toward him.
“What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?”
He smooths back the hair the breeze blew onto my cheek, and I tremble at his touch. “I’m an insensitive ass.”
I blink up at him, not understanding. “Why would you say that?”
He shakes his head. “You go through life so happy. You insist you had such a good childhood that it’s easy to believe you and forget… you were in foster care. No matter what you tell the world, it couldn’t have been easy. Holidays had to have been hard. And I’m an idiot for not realizing that before I asked that question.”
A sudden lump rises to my throat, one I’m not used to feeling, because like he said, I do go through life happy and mostly grateful. Grateful my life wasn’t worse. That good people took care of me. But they weren’t my parents, and nothing can make up for that fact. I just rarely let myself think about it… or remember.