Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“I can’t go to bed with a dirty kitchen. It’s just gross.” She throws her hands up.
“Close your eyes, then you won’t see it.” I hold up my hand as I walk up the steps, knowing the dishes will not be there in the morning. I’m asleep the minute my head hits the pillow, only waking when I have to go pee at 6:00 a.m.
Stretching as I get out of bed, I go to the bathroom. I brush my teeth before going back and putting on a pair of yoga pants and a white top, then heading downstairs to make my coffee.
The house is quiet, and the kitchen is clean, which isn’t a surprise. Until I hear movement to the side and look over to see Oliver trying to tiptoe out of my mother’s bedroom. “Busted.” I fold my arms over my chest.
“I fell asleep.” He holds up his hands. “On top of the covers, fully dressed. Guess I was tired.”
“Would you like a coffee before you go?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“I’m going to get out of here before she wakes up and sees me, and then I’m never allowed back in here.” He puts on his boots before grabbing his helmet.
I’m taking my first sip of coffee when my mother comes out of her room in a robe. “Morning, Mom,” I greet her, and she glares at me. “I’m going to be going now.” I put my coffee in a stainless-steel mug. “Your boyfriend just left.”
“I thought you were leaving,” she snaps, and I shake my head, laughing as I walk out of the house.
I’m walking down the quiet street, about to cross it, when I hear cursing and a loud cry of pain coming from the mechanic shop. Looking over, I see Brock’s truck parked on the side. “Walk away,” I tell myself, but my feet move toward the shop. Pushing open the glass door, I hear the bells over the door ring. “Hello,” I call as I hear rustling coming from the side where the office is. “Hello.”
I stick my head in the office at the same time the bathroom door opens, and I see Brock walk out with a rag wrapped around his finger, oozing with blood. “I was walking by, and I heard you cry out in pain.”
“I didn’t cry out in pain,” he snaps. “I was hissing out.”
I roll my eyes, walking over to him. “What did you do?”
“Slipped out of my hands,” he says as he applies pressure to his finger. “Landed on my finger, and I think sliced it open.” I stand in front of him. “I’m fine.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap, “and let me help, you stubborn mule.” He glares at me, but he lets me unwrap the rag, and I see the gash. “I don’t think you need stitches. I mean, not like you’d go anyway, but let’s get this cleaned up and bandaged.” I don’t even know why I’m doing this. Well, I know why I’m doing this, because someone is hurt and I’ve been raised to help. We walk over to the bathroom off his office. It’s a lot cleaner than I thought it would be. I turn the water on and feel it with my finger before taking his hand and putting it under the stream. The river of light red blood fills the bottom of the sink. I wait a couple of minutes before grabbing the towel in his hand and wrapping it to apply pressure. “Where is the first-aid kit?”
“At the front, under the desk,” he gruffs out, so I walk to the front and find the square white plastic box with the red cross on the front. I go back in and find him near his desk. Opening it up, I grab the antiseptic pads and wipe down the cut before grabbing the big bandage. “You might have to wear gloves today,” I advise him as I put the bandage on his finger, wrapping it around, “or not, it’s up to you.”
He grunts out a thank-you as I lean forward to toss the bandage wrapper, not realizing I’m in his space and my chest is pushed against his arm. I stand as he looks down at me. “Sorry,” I say, and it’s like the moment is frozen in time. Like we’ve done this before, and I’m sure after dating for seven years, we may have done this before. I don’t even know. “I’ll just—” I point over my shoulder. “Go.” But my feet stay rooted in the spot as our chests practically touch. His hands come up, and he grips the sides of my neck before his mouth slams down on mine. My mouth opens for him, as if I was waiting for this moment. His tongue comes out to play with mine. My body wakes up as if it’s been asleep for so long that this is what it needs to survive. The minute his hands grip my neck, I think I melt into him. I know I shouldn’t want this. I know I shouldn’t even be here. But what I also know is this kiss is something I might have been waiting for this whole fucking week. A little bit of comfort I didn’t know I was missing.