Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
When I’m done, I go to the next group. Then go outside and repeat this exercise over and over again.
I spend the entire day meeting beautiful, interesting people with crazy-smart minds.
By the time I go back to my little cottage to change for dinner, I’m in a state of half-exhaustion and half-exhilaration. And even though it’s only my first day, I know—like feel it in my soul—that this is my home.
And when my year is up, I will be staying.
CHAPTER FOUR – LOCKE
PRESENT DAY
“Do you want to go to dinner?”
Nova is washing her hands. She just came in from the barn to check on her little tribe of animals and she’s all messy, and dirty, and wearing overalls that are much too big. She has a pair of tan leather gloves sticking out of her back pocket and when I looked out the window earlier, she was wearing a straw hat.
There is almost nothing sexy about this look, but then again… it’s so fucking sexy. I like her like this. I like her here. It’s all wild and natural. And it fits her. She has always been wild and natural. In fact, I like her so much better as a flower farmer than I ever did as a scientist.
But I won’t ever tell her that.
I’m pretty sure her exit from the Institute is something she’d rather forget.
And Mercer. I don’t want to think about him, but how can I not?
Fucking Mercer. He’s always here, even when he’s not.
Nova turns around, drying her hands on a blue and yellow checkered dishcloth. “You mean like a date?”
I nod. Because I can’t talk right now. I’m too busy looking at her. She is just one of those pretty people. But the best thing about Nova is that she’s aware of it, but doesn’t care about it.
Of course, only beautiful people think that way. Only beautiful people have the luxury of taking beauty for granted.
This is what makes Nova different, even if she wasn’t always like this.
She takes nothing for granted.
“You don’t wanna go on a date with me?”
She shoots me a crooked smile. “We’ve never been on a date. Not a real one.”
No. She’s right. Mercer was the one who took her on dates, not me.
Nova drops the dishcloth onto the counter, leans back, and crosses her arms. “If I accept this date, does it mean anything?”
“It means… you wanna have a nice time with me.”
“And that’s it?”
“Calm down, Nova. I’m not gonna ask you to marry me just because we go on a date.”
“No. You wouldn’t dare go that far.” I can’t parse the meaning of this response, but I don’t have to. She takes it back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“You did. But it’s fine.”
She lets out a breath, walks around the island to where I’m standing, places her hands on my shoulders, and stands up on her tiptoes, asking for a kiss.
I smile as my mouth covers hers and we make out for an eternity.
I forget the words she took back. I forget everything when I’m kissing Nova.
When we break apart, she whispers, “I’d love to go on a date with you. What should I wear?”
“Something pretty.”
“That could be jeans, or a dress, or shorts.”
“I don’t care what you wear, Nova.”
She likes this about me, I know it.
She likes this about me because Mercer always cared about what she was wearing. It’s a big deal to him. Appearances. He’s all about those.
I don’t know how Olsen feels about this, but I don’t really care, either.
“Would you like to stay the week, Locke?”
“Will I have to sleep in the guest room?”
“Only if you want to.”
I smile. Because this feels like progress. It feels like a win. “I would love to stay the week.”
“Good.” She pats my shoulder. “Go grab your stuff from wherever you left it, and by the time you get back, I’ll be ready.”
I change my clothes at the place I rented. Since she asked me what level of formal this date was gonna be, and I refused to specify, I’m left guessing when it comes to my own clothes.
I choose something safe. Dark jeans and an untucked white button-down. Then I gather up my bags, check out of the house using the app, and put all my stuff in my rental Jeep.
She’s in the garden picking flowers when I arrive and I just want to watch her. I want to be invisible and follow her around. But, of course, she hears me pull in and starts walking my way with one of those flat flower baskets heavy with lavender sprigs.
Her dress is the definition of pretty. It’s an off-white, over-the-shoulder, vintage cotton thing with a tight bust that accentuates her lovely breasts. Short and flirty, it has a thin ruffle on the hem that hits her mid-thigh. Her wedge-heel espadrilles have cotton straps that crisscross around her ankles, and her make-up—if she’s even wearing any—is light and natural. Pink lips and cheeks and those eyes you can get lost in.