Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Though there still wasn’t any décor on the walls, there was enough architectural character in the design of the house itself that it didn’t really need any.
The woodwork was damn near a work of art in and of itself.
“I love this house,” I told him as he walked past me to the living room.
“You’ve seen it before,” he pointed out sarcastically.
I rolled my eyes. “I know, but I had other things on my mind,” I answered honestly. “And I’ve had a crush on this house since we moved here years ago. I had hoped that my parents would buy it. It was one of the ones that we looked at…well, they looked at. Slate, Oscar and I weren’t allowed to get out of the car.”
“Who’s Slate?” he questioned, looking over his shoulder at me.
To keep myself from staring at his ass, I continued to study the house. It had high, vaulted ceilings. Rough cut lumber on the walls. Huge windows that had to be a bitch to keep clean since you couldn’t reach half of them, and cobwebs.
“Dear God, Rome,” I muttered, looking at the cobwebs. “Why are those up there?”
He followed my finger and snorted. “I can’t reach up there.”
I stopped at the fireplace and gave the mantle an evil eye. “What about this?” I asked as I took a swipe over the rough-cut cedar with one finger, then held it up for him to look at.
Rome had the decency to look embarrassed. “I…I don’t know.”
I rolled my eyes, then mentally went through my calendar to see when I’d have time to clean Rome’s house this week.
It wouldn’t be today…or tomorrow for that matter.
Wednesday, though…that could work.
Mentally penciling him in after the Troubadours, I came to a stop next to Rome.
“I’ll be here Wednesday to clean,” I told him.
Rome’s lips twitched. “I work on Wednesday.”
“You don’t need to be here for me to clean,” I pointed out, then narrowed my eyes. “Unless you don’t trust me in your house by myself. If that’s the case, I can come on Saturday. It’s the next day off that I have.”
Rome’s eyes studied me. “You can come on Wednesday.” He paused. “I just wanted to see you.”
I felt my lips twitch, and his eyes that had been on my face went to those lips and stayed there, studying them.
I couldn’t help darting my tongue out and licking said lips.
I felt something deep in my belly flutter, and I worried my lip with my teeth, causing his eyes to once again meet mine.
And what I saw there was definitely not the blank mask he’d been wearing for quite a long time.
This new face, with his expression-filled eyes, had something deep in my belly unfurling.
“What?” I asked softly.
He swallowed, and I watched his throat bob with the movement.
Then he blinked and the moment was lost…but definitely not forgotten. At least by me, anyway.
“I want you to have something.”
I frowned. “What?”
He handed me something that was sitting on his table, and I recognized the bag of letters that I’d left in my haste to leave earlier that morning.
I had never, not ever, wanted to leave those.
I read them over and over again when I had a bad day—and lately, there were more bad days than good days.
I was glad that he was giving them back.
“If they mean to you what yours mean to me, I don’t want you to be without them,” he said softly.
I took them up in my hands and hugged them to my chest.
“They do.”
Our eyes met, and something else—something powerful—passed between us. As if we were each other’s lifelines, and we both knew it.
“Do you want a ride home?” he asked softly.
Would I like a ride home on the back of Rome Pierce’s bike, or would I like to walk another four miles home? That was a stupid question.
And I told him so.
He laughed. The sound was rusty and husky, but it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.
“Let me get some boots on and find my keys.”
A shaft of sunlight shifted, spotlighting an object on the couch in its rays, and when I could make out that object, my stomach lurched at what I saw.
On the couch, illuminated by those rays of sun, was Matias’ dragon.
The big, black Night Fury from How to Train Your Dragon. It was about three feet tall and was the most ungainly large, stuffed animal in the world, but that had been how Matias had wanted it.
Stuffed to the brim so he could be ‘as big as he can be’ according to Matias.
Picking up the dragon, I tucked it underneath my arm and carried it up to Rome’s room. When he went to sleep tonight, he’d have it on the nightstand. Maybe if he woke up and saw it, he would remember the good and not the bad.