Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“Hold up.” He laughs, grabbing my wrist and turning me around to face him. “On the off-chance warlocks or witches exist, you should know it’s not necessary to ask for their help.” He drags me closer with a smile that makes my toes curl. “I didn’t want to make you anxious by suggesting that you should stay the night.” His hand wraps around the side of my neck, and he lowers his face to mine. “I figured I’d talk you into staying later and let you borrow a tee and give you the extra toothbrushes I picked up for you yesterday when I was at the store.”
“Oh,” I whisper, latching onto his side, and his smile broadens.
“You’re really fucking cute when you’re nervous.” His thumb sweeps across my jaw, then his mouth lowers towards mine. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” My fingers tangle in his tee, and my eyes start to slide closed as his breath brushes across my lips.
“Get a fucking room.”
Pulling back as my eyes spring open, we both look towards the street as a group of boys ride by the house in the middle of the road on their bikes. And seeing who it is, I press my lips together. This last week, the kids have both been surprisingly quiet when it comes to stories about Matthew, so I forgot that he existed. But he’s apparently still around and as charming as ever. I find this out when he locks his eyes on me and flips me off.
“I hate saying it, but I really don’t like that kid,” I tell Logan, and he makes a sound of agreement in the back of his throat while taking my hand.
When we get up to the porch, Dozer, who is sprawled out in the doorway, gets to his feet with his bottom wagging.
“Hey, buddy.” I walk into the house and get down on the floor with him to rub his belly while Logan closes the door. “Are you sad that none of the kids are here?”
“He’s probably relieved to not have to run around after Zuri for a single treat.”
I smile up at him. “You shouldn’t have told her that his vet said he needed to lose weight.”
“True,” he mutters, smiling down at us.
Getting to my feet, I wipe my hands down the front of my jeans and look up the stairs where I usually hear the kids, talking or laughing, sometimes arguing, depending on what is happening.
“It’s so quiet.”
“When was the last time you had a night without Zuri?” he asks, taking my wrist and walking me towards the kitchen.
“When I was back in Colorado.” He lets my wrist go and walks into the pantry, coming back out with a glass jar filled with popcorn kernels and a few different boxes of candy, the kind you get at the movie theater.
“So it’s been a while.” He walks to the fridge, taking out a chilled bottle of white wine.
“Yeah, it’s been a while.”
“Let me remind you about the joys of being childfree for an evening.” He walks to the door that leads down to the basement and flips on the light before heading down the steps. “Make yourself comfortable.” Kicking off my sandals I take a seat on the couch while he picks up the remote and turns on the TV. “What kind of movies do you like?”
“Mysteries, comedies, action, and adventure.”
“No romance.”
“No.”
“Really?” He raises a brow. “I saw your book collection, babe.”
“Yeah, but romance is not really my thing unless I’m reading it.” I shrug, taking the remote he passes me. “You want me to find something?”
“I trust you.” He tells me as he takes the bottle of wine to the small kitchenette that is tucked in the corner of the room. It takes me a few minutes to settle on the movie Thursday Murder Club, and as I’m pressing play, he comes back to the couch. Passing me the glass of wine, he takes a seat next to me with his beer, sitting with his legs wide and resting his arm on the back of the couch behind me. I take a sip of wine and slouch into his side, feeling the nervousness of being alone with him melt away. Sure, there is that ever-present bit of sexual tension I always feel when we are together, but more than anything, I feel relaxed in his presence.
“She must have worked for the British government,” he mutters sometime after my glass of wine is long gone. His mostly empty beer is on the floor next to the couch, his head on one of the toss pillows, and my body sprawled out on top of his with my cheek to his chest. This is not a position I would ever have thought I’d be comfortable in, but when he laid down and dragged me on top of him, I quickly found out I was wrong about that assumption.