Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
“From what? We live in one of the safest towns on the planet. I don’t need protection. I need affection. Are you honestly going to act like you don’t want the same?”
Of course, he wanted it, but not with Wren. If they crossed that line, they’d never be able to uncross it. He’d inevitably screw it up and then she’d hate him for disappointing her. “Sometimes, it doesn’t matter what we want. It only matters that we know what’s right and what’s wrong and choose correctly.”
She gaped at him. “Was it right for you to chase away every guy who ever showed interest in me?” She shoved his chest. “Was it?” Her brows pinched. “Answer me.”
“Wren...” He was speechless. “I’m not...” Words evaded him. He checked his motives, but quickly grew frustrated with all that deep reflection. “You’re the one who followed me in here!”
She scoffed and looked away. “You should go.”
“Don’t get upset.”
“What do you care anyway if I’m upset?”
“I care.”
She scooted around him and adjusted her clothes. Her voice contracted as if she were holding back tears. “No, you don’t.”
“Wren...” He reached for her, but she drew back and knocked into the trash can full of rakes and shovels.
“Ouch!”
“Shit.” He shoved the falling tools, but not before more crashed into her and clattered loudly to the floor.
She cupped her shoulder protectively.
“Let me see.”
“Don’t.” She curled away as he tried to move her hand.
“Knock it off. Let me look at it.” He pulled her fingers away, revealing a surface scratch. “It’s just a graze.” Nothing that would scar, but it probably stung like a son of a bitch. He scowled at the spilled trash can. “Bodhi needs a better system. You’re lucky it didn’t leave a gash.”
She glanced over her shoulder and met his stare. They were too close.
Stepping back, he said, “You should still clean it out.”
She pointed to a small metal box hanging on the wall by the door. “There’s disinfectant in there.”
He looked at the little vintage box and frowned. It looked like a prop from MASH. “Do you have anything from this century?”
She rolled her eyes. “I keep it stocked with up-to-date supplies.”
He pulled down the box and sorted through the gauze and tapes until he found alcohol wipes. “This should work. Sit here.” He cleared an empty stack of flower pots off the work table and lifted her onto the surface.
She turned her shoulder and lowered her shirt. There was something so elegant and feminine about her body. Every inch of muscle seemed honed to perfection, like a natural work of art.
She gasped when he touched the alcohol-soaked towel to the cut.
“Sorry. Does it sting?”
“It’s cold.” She shivered.
“There. Good as new.” He pulled her shirt and sweater into place and stood silently for a moment. “About what happened—”
“It’s fine. We don’t have to dissect it.”
“I should have had more control.”
“Greyson, I said it’s fine. Besides, you were right. I started it.”
He still felt guilty. He didn’t want her to feel embarrassed. “It’s my fault. It’s been a long time since I...” He cleared his throat. “You know. Not that that’s an excuse. But I’m usually not so...”
She laughed. “No matter how long it’s been for you, I’m sure I’ve got you beat.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. I remember it was snowing the last time I... so that means it was either last winter or the one before.”
She tipped her head forward, dropping her chin to her chest as she stared up at him. “Like I said…I’ve got you beat.”
He arched a brow, dangerous curiosity pushing him to ask, “Really? How long?”
She scoffed, then searched his confused stare and laughed. “You do realize...”
He frowned when she didn’t finish her statement. “Realize what?”
Her lips twisted. “You’re not seriously going to make me say it?”
“Wren, I have no freaking clue what you’re trying to tell me, so yeah, using words would help.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. It’s been forever for me.”
“Feels like that sometimes,” he agreed.
“No, Greyson. I’m saying that literally.”
His entire body stilled. No breathing. No blinking. For a moment, he even lost his hearing. “What’s that now?”
“You know my relationship history.”
“Yeah, but...” Dating had nothing to do with sex. Just because Wren never had a long-term boyfriend didn’t mean she didn’t have... “You’ve had...”
“Never.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Okay. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Wren, you’re thirty years old.”
“I know my age, Grey. But thanks for giving me more of a complex than I already have as Hideaway Harbor’s spinster cat lady.”
“You’re not a spinster. Spinsters are old and frumpy.”
“Old like thirty?”
This didn’t make sense, yet it made perfect sense. He stepped back, tripped over a rake handle, and stumbled into the wall. “God damn, Bodhi and his stupid fucking system!”
“Careful!”
He angrily picked up the shovels, rakes, and brooms and shoved them back into the trash can. “I’m building you a wall rack tomorrow.”