Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Christian, it’s okay.”
“No.” He bumps my nose with his. “It’s not okay. I don’t ever want you to feel that you’re insignificant or less than. That you’re not important.”
I feel tears prick my eyes, and I reach up to brush them away, but he beats me to it and then kisses the outer edges of my eyes.
My God, I love him so much my heart aches with it.
“Neither of us deserves it,” I whisper, pressing my hands to his sides. “It’s not just me.”
“I know,” he says. “I’ll figure it out, and I’m apologizing for the mess that is my public life. We should eat. I need to talk to you.”
“The eggs are ready; all I have to do is whip up the omelets.”
“That easy, huh?” he asks as he pulls away, and I jump off the table.
“It is pretty easy, actually.”
He makes himself a cup of coffee as I get the omelets underway, and when we’re sitting at the table, digging into our food, he looks up at me in surprise.
“This is really good.”
“I wasn’t going to serve you something that isn’t good.”
He laughs and takes another bite of his eggs. “Now that I know you’re this good of a cook, I’ll coerce you into cooking for me more often.”
“I’ve cooked for you several times.”
He grins that cocky, confident smile that makes me want to lean in and kiss it right off him.
So, I do.
And when I pull away, I’m satisfied to find that his eyes have dilated, and he’s breathing just a bit harder.
“Okay, what do you want to talk about?” I take a bite of my toast, then reach for the strawberry jam my mom made last summer when she and Dad were here from Arizona.
“My job.” He takes a sip of coffee out of my Sorry I’m late, I didn’t want to come mug.
It makes me giggle.
“My job is funny?”
“No, that mug is funny. Sorry. Talk to me.”
“The press is vicious,” he begins, as calmly as if he’s chatting about the eggs on his plate. “They spin stories, and they make everything look like a scandal. I wore Adidas rather than Nike? Well, shit, my Nike contract must be over.”
“Do you have a Nike contract?” I ask.
“No, that’s just an example.”
“Gotcha. But if you do get a Nike contract, hook a girl up.”
He shakes his head, watching me with a crooked smile. “You’re not taking this seriously.”
“I am.” I push my empty plate away and reach for my Please do not pet the peeves mug of coffee. “Christian, I spoke with Natalie the other day, and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Your career is important to you, just like mine is to me. I respect it, and even if I don’t always agree with it, I will always respect it.
“That means that I also have to take a lot of it in stride, and I need to trust you. Nat told me some horror stories about the press and Luke, and she also spoke some truth to me. I’m not a jealous woman, and I’m not irrational.”
“So, you’re an enigma,” he says, his eyes narrowed.
“No, I’m not a drama queen.” I wink at him and take another sip of coffee. “That doesn’t mean you get to kiss all the girls, though.”
“Damn.” He sighs and tosses his fork down in a clatter, making me jump and then laugh. “My plan has been foiled again.”
“Yep.”
“I do have to kiss girls and sometimes more than that in the movies I do,” he reminds me, and I frown.
“Huh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You should think of it. You should think about all of it before this goes any further because it’s not easy. It’s not simple. And while I do make a lot of money and I can do fun things, and I’m devastatingly handsome—”
I snort, and he narrows his eyes at me again.
“—there may come a time when you just don’t want to deal with it anymore.”
“I’ve been warned,” I reply, then lean over to kiss him. “Thanks for warning me.”
“Take it seriously,” he says and tucks my hair behind my ear, sending sparks tingling down my arm. Then he takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.
I want to ask him if he’s telling me all of this because he plans to be with me past when he leaves in two weeks. I want to tell him that none of it matters.
But I know that’s a lie.
It matters.
“I do take it seriously, and I’ll consider everything you’ve said.”
He nods and kisses my hand. “Thank you.”
“What should we do today? Do you want to watch some movies here at the house?”
“Yes, I absolutely want to watch movies,” he says with a nod. “I’ll pick, and then you pick.”
“What if what you pick sucks?”
He glares at me as his phone rings.