Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“And you could name the truck Eat My Balls.”
She snorts. “Makena’s Got Balls.”
“Ballin’ Dirty on the Bayou.”
“Actually, Bayou Balls isn’t the worst—” She stops herself, holding up a hand in the air, fingers spread. “I’m not going to name a food truck after one item on the menu. And three hundred dollars is crazy. Especially considering I have to replace my entire copper skillet set. Moving on.”
“Makena, seriously, I’m happy to—”
“Nope,” she cuts in, wandering away. “We’ll talk about it when we get home.”
The way she says ‘home’ like it’s ours makes my chest fill with a warm, hopeful ache.
Fuck, is it finally happening? Is she finally done fighting how meant-to-be it is with us? After eight months of chasing this woman, it’s hard to relax my guard.
A part of me wants to ask, flat out, if she’ll move in for good.
Instead, I pick up a ceramic cat with human teeth. “Should I get this for Nix? As a warning to keep his clothes on in my hot tub, or the demon cat will bite his junk off?”
She laughs, that bright, holding-nothing-back sound that hits me right in the solar plexus. “God, that’s disturbing. And yes, you absolutely should. Twelve dollars is a bargain for a gag gift of that caliber.”
We wander the rest of the store, making up stories about the artifacts. The hand mirror that has a ghost trapped inside. The desk where a pharmacist cut cocaine with baby powder during Prohibition. Then Makena finds an old tin sign, rust bleeding through red letters that spell “Café.”
She traces the letters with one finger. “Do I really have it in me to do this again? To build something from the ground up with no idea what I’m doing?”
“You know what you’re doing,” I assure her. “You just have to learn how to do it on wheels, and the hungry people will come running.”
She looks up at me, her gaze soft. Vulnerable. “You really think so?”
“I know so. You’re Makena fucking DeWitt. You’re going to have lines around the block. No doubt in my mind.”
Something cracks open in her expression, and before I know it, she’s kissing me—right here, between the murder dolls and dusty spoons.
When she presses closer, I feel it everywhere, a fuse lit low in my spine. Her fingers curl in my shirt, and her breath hitches against my mouth. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a confession. A question.
One I’m ready to answer.
When she pulls back, I let the words I’ve been holding in pour out, “Be my girlfriend. Live with me. Let me help you with your business. Let me let you help me help you help me learn how to be the best partner you’ve ever had. Just…let’s do it. Fuck it.”
Her eyes go wide.
“Going slow is dumb,” I add, apparently unable to shut my mouth now that I’ve opened it. “And you said yourself that you wished you’d given me your number eight months ago. Do you really want to be another eight months down the line, kicking yourself for missing out on all the fun and hot sex we could have had if we’d been under the same roof that entire time?”
Her lips curve, slowly at first, but when the smile takes hold, it’s the best smile I’ve ever seen. A fearless, hopeful, “I’m falling in love with you, too” smile that’s just for me. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I ask, exhaling in a rush. “Yeah? You’re moving in for real?”
She nods. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
A grin bursts across my face. Still, I try to play it cool. “Well…good. That sounds good.”
“You’re funny,” she says, laughing as she sways closer.
I wrap my arms tighter around her. “Yeah? Why? I wasn’t joking. For once.”
She nods, her smile fading. “I know. Not funny ha ha. Funny like…” She trails off, cocking her head thoughtfully before she continues in a softer voice, “I like that you’re not as confident as you play it. I like that this scares you a little bit, too. It makes me feel less alone.”
“You’re not alone,” I murmur. “I think all the big things in life are a little scary. It’s how you know you’re doing something important.”
“And real,” Makena adds.
“Is it wrong that I really want to take you back to the room and wreck you before we get dressed for the party?”
Holding my gaze with a heat that makes my cock perk up and take notice, she shakes her head slowly side to side. “No, that’s not wrong. That’s the rightest thing I’ve heard in a while, actually. Why don’t you pay for that nightmare cat, and we can get out of here?”
“Fuck the nightmare cat,” I say, setting the monster back on the closest shelf and taking Mack’s hand. “Let’s go, F.C.”
The elderly owner watches us leave with an expression that says she knows exactly what we’re planning to do with our afternoon.