Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
I clutch the material of his flannel, yanking him close because I need my hands all over him. I need to touch him and know that this is real and not just one of the dreams that wakes me up at three in the morning and leaves me crying.
It's not until there's the soft whine from one of the horses that reality comes crashing back. I push against Flint, and he only moves back a few inches like his body won’t let him go further away.
“This can’t happen,” I tell him.
He makes a soft growl. I’ve never heard a noise like that from him, and it makes my panties a little bit damp. “Don't tell me what we shared was a mistake.”
I think of our baby, safe and warm in my stomach. My hand starts to drift, but I catch myself. There's no bump, nothing visible to let the world know that I'm carrying the next miracle.
I clear my throat. “It could never be a mistake. But I'm supposed to have room and board. This is meant to be my fresh start. Not just for me, but for my kids and my grandmother. There’s more than me to think about here.”
He takes my hand and puts it over his flannel, and I feel his racing heart through the thin material. Maybe this conversation is terrifying him as much as it is me. “We’ll take it slow.”
I wish more than anything that I could agree to take it slow. But if it doesn’t end well, I lose more than a job. I lose lodging and the stability I’m trying to give my kids. Besides, I know what happens when you trust a man against your better instincts. “This can’t happen. I’m sorry.”
He studies my expression. “I'm not letting you go, but I will be patient and wait for you.”
I call his name.
He sighs softly. “Let’s get back to the office.”
“I've already seen the office and pretty much everything else on the grounds. How about the cabin? I’d like to see where I’ll be staying.”
He hesitates. “It might not be exactly what you're expecting.”
“I just need a place to stay. I'm not hoping for five-star accommodations,” I explain as we leave the stable, stepping back into the bright sunlight. I blink against it, taking a moment for my vision to adjust.
“Two stars might be more like it,” he answers and pulls off his sunglasses passing them to me. He grunts, “Easier for me to navigate without them.”
I accept them gratefully. It’s not lost on me that he’s always looking out for me in a way that my ex-husband never did. Flint spends a lot of time and energy trying to make me comfortable and happy and that’s just one more thing that makes the whole situation so hard.
We walk to the cabin slowly, neither of us speaking. It’s a beautiful day with a bright blue sky and a slight breeze that battles back the humidity. The path to my cabin is well-worn, and it’s only about two miles from the office space.
I imagine that during the milder months, it'll be nice to walk to work. Maybe I can even walk home during lunch hour and check on the boys and my grandmother. I’m already mentally planning our first afternoon together when I stop short and stare at the cabin in front of me in shock.
“You were right. It’s not quite five stars,” I say, feeling queasy at the fire damage.
He grimaces. “Kids playing in the woods with matches did this. No one got hurt, and that’s the good news. The bad news is now you have a skylight in the living room and no kitchen. Bedrooms weren’t hit though. All in all, we got it contained pretty damn fast.”
The longer I stare at the burned cabin, the harder I have to blink to keep from crying. I’m glad I’m wearing sunglasses so he can’t see that. The job is too far for me to commute every day. More than that, I was counting on the money that I would save from not paying rent to help toward the costs of the new baby.
“This was supposed to be my home,” I whisper.
He puts his hands on my shoulders gently and spins me around. “See that building in the distance?”
“Is that cabin available?” I ask hopefully.
“No, that’s my place,” he explains. “But you and the kids and your grandma could hunker down with me. No rent required.”
He hasn't moved his hands from my shoulders, and I like the weight, the feeling that I'm not in this alone. That’s why I can’t accept his offer, generous as it is. “I don't want to be in your hair.”
Maybe it's my imagination, but I think his voice drops a note when he says, “I like the idea of you being in my hair.”