Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
I need some fucking sleep.
When she turns to me, she tugs that lip between her teeth, looking uncertain.
“Get over here, Trouble.” I take her hand and tug her against me, wrap my arms around her and hug her close. She smells incredible. Like flowers and laundry soap. After a heartbeat of stiffening in my arms, she melts against me and lets out a long breath.
Maybe it’s the sadness of the day that has her acting different. I hope that’s it.
“I’m glad you’re home,” she murmurs. “Both of you.”
“I knew you missed me.” I kiss her head, and she laughs, which is exactly what I wanted, and then she pulls away, and I miss having her warmth, her softness, close to me.
This is Willow, man.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, but she looks so damn tired.
“Are you sure you won’t stay?” Gideon asks, obviously reading my mind. “I’m sure Aiden will be fine with his friend tonight. I don’t like you making that drive either.”
“No, I need to get him.” She shakes her head, her mind obviously made up. “I’ll be okay.”
“Let us know when you get home.”
She nods, sinks into the driver’s seat, and waves before heading off down the driveway.
Chapter Three
Willow
“Holy shit, Ry, I was just here two days ago, and this looks like a different house.”
Ryker grins in that cocky way he always does that makes the butterflies attack my stomach lining. Good God, this man’s smile should come with a warning label.
Smile will induce pantie melting from fifty paces.
He slings his arm over my shoulders, the way he always does, and we look around the living room. The old, faded furniture that should have been replaced more than a decade ago is gone. In fact, the room has been completely emptied, and there’s a crew refinishing the original hardwood floors.
“They’re going to paint when the floors are done. They should have done it before, but there was miscommunication,” he says, but all I can think about is his rock-hard side, which I’m pressed up against. “The whole house is getting paint and the floors redone. Come on, you can clean up your room because it’s getting the magic tomorrow, along with the rest of the second floor.”
“My room is clean,” I remind him with a smirk. “I’m not a slob like someone else I know.”
“Hey, I was a teenager. I was supposed to be a slob.”
He smirks and twists his baseball cap so it’s sitting backward, and I’m pretty sure my vagina just did the hula.
He’s your best friend, and that’s it, Willow. Calm the hell down.
“You okay?” he asks, tipping his head to the side.
“Sure.” I’m totally fine. Definitely not reacting to the way that gray T-shirt is molded against his torso and the sleeves hug his biceps. His body is just . . . ridiculous.
“Let me know if you need help,” he says, once he seems satisfied that I’m telling the truth. “I’ll be in the back guest rooms on the second floor. I’m converting the two rooms into one so I can have a gym.”
And now I have visions of this man working out, and I need to get away from him before I do something stupid. Like lick him.
This is why it’s always been better that we didn’t live in the same place, and we just talked via the phone. Because where Ryker James is concerned, my hormones are in overdrive.
“Will do,” I reply, trying to act as nonchalant as possible as I grab some garbage sacks and head upstairs to my room.
It’s so weird to hear the noises of renovations echoing through the gigantic farmhouse. I practically grew up here. My mom was Debbie’s sister. Mom loved to dump me off here so she didn’t have to worry about me, and Aunt Deb and Uncle Ray never turned me away.
They treated me like I was theirs. Like I belonged with them.
Losing them hurt more than anything I’ve ever gone through in my life.
I walk into my room and take a deep breath. The full-size bed still has the same blue hand-sewn quilt draped over it that Deb made for me when I was ten. After college, I didn’t stay out here often, but I was always reminded that I had a place here.
There aren’t any mementos in here. No yearbooks or old clothes of mine. It looks like any other spare bedroom, but it always belonged to me. My safest place in this world. I spent countless summer nights sitting by that window, staring out at the mountains and the stars, daydreaming about Ryker. And I’ve never slept better in my life than I did in that bed.
It won’t take me long to make sure everything is wrapped and covered so the furniture will be safe from the painters.
I’ve just folded up my sheets and blankets and am stuffing them into a giant plastic bag when I feel movement behind me. I’m bent at the waist, wrestling with the edge of this bag. I turn to look behind me and find Ryker’s eyes pinned to my ass.