Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
I don’t think I realized how important that “separate” part was until he made me feel like a main character for the first time in so long. But now…I love him for letting me just be me.
And yes, I dropped the “L” word again.
Only in my head, but still…
Must get a grip! It’s too soon to be in love, no matter how incredible the sex is.
But it is incredible. Holy hell, is it incredible.
I’m already counting the minutes until Mimi’s bedtime tonight, when we can be alone again…
“Anyone else craving something more caffeinated than juice?” Chelsea asks, fanning herself with a paper plate. “I know I’m only supposed to have one small iced coffee a day, but…”
She trails off mid-sentence, her juice box halfway to her lips.
Miranda follows her gaze, her jaw going slack and her eyes comically wide. And then suddenly both of them are doing that sitting-up-straighter, perky expression thing that means a cute boy has entered the chat. The breeze shifts direction, and I instantly know who that cute boy is.
I know before I turn around. It’s like my body recognizes his vibration, his scent. Some primitive part of me is locked on Grammercy Graves.
I turn and, sure enough, there’s my man.
God, how is it possible that he’s mine?
He’s so…him.
Even in worn-in jeans and a faded navy T-shirt that hugs his strong arms, he’s extraordinary, and it’s more than the handsome face or killer body. It’s the way he holds himself, with that mixture of confidence and awareness of the world around him and the way he wants to show up in it. It’s in his eyes, those kind, clever, always-ready-for-a-laugh eyes that are becoming my favorite.
Only, they’re not looking very amused right now…
Not amused at all.
As our eyes meet, he winces and nods to his left, toward the parking lot where he must have just pulled in. I can’t believe I didn’t notice. It’s not like there’s been much traffic at the gator farm today. Aside from a family from St. Louis and a high school biology class on a weekend field trip, we’ve been alone with the zookeepers and reptiles.
“Excuse me,” I murmur, pushing my chair back. “I think someone needs to talk to me.”
“And who is this someone?” Miranda asks, not even trying to sound casual. Her voice has that high, curious pitch that means she’s planning to pump me for information as soon as I return to the table. “Because he is fine, woman.”
“With a capital F,” Chelsea murmurs, still gaping. “Look at his forearms. I didn’t know they made them like that in real life.”
“That’s my roommate?” The words sound way too much like a question, prompting a sharply raised brow from Miranda. “I mean, he is,” I maintain, backing away with heat creeping up my neck. I roll my eyes in a silent confession of “yes, there’s more to tell, but I have to go see what this fine ass man wants, be right back,” and motion toward the kids. “Would you mind keeping an eye on Mimi for a second?”
“Of course,” Chelsea murmurs, continuing to study Grammercy like the last chunk of meat in the gator pen at feeding time. Maybe pregnancy makes her things other than cranky? “No rush.”
I spin and speed-walk out of the pavilion, headed for the very hunky, very worried-looking man ducking behind the wooden fence shielding the park from the road.
“Hey, what’s up?” I ask as I reach his side.
“Hey, darlin’,” he drawls, the regret in his tone, his eyes, sending a wave of anxiety through my nervous system. “Sorry to crash the party. I tried texting and calling, but—”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” My hand flies to my temple, then to my back pocket, where my phone has been weirdly quiet this afternoon. “I think my phone’s still on silent from last night. I was about to turn it on, but at the last minute, Mimi decided she wanted to wear green to match the gators, instead of pink. And then we were scrambling to glue glitter on Sage’s card and—”
“Don’t apologize,” he cuts in, resting a soothing hand on my arm. “It’s fine. My phone was still off, too. We were kind of busy last night. And this morning, so…”
“We were,” I murmur, biting my lip.
It doesn’t feel like the time to smile, but it’s hard to think about last night—or this morning—without smiling.
But Grammercy still isn’t smiling. He’s looking at me like he thinks I’m adorable, though, which is nice and comforting, but the worry in his gaze makes me afraid something’s wrong.
And if there’s nothing wrong between us, then…
“Is it your mom?” I ask, my pulse picking up. “Is she okay? Did something happen?”
“You could say that,” he mutters, hurrying to add when I make a worried sound, “but she’s fine. Mom’s not too happy with me right now, but she’s fine.”