Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
He picks up an extra-long chip, dips it in mayo and brings it to my lips, mischief in his eyes.
I raise my hand to brush his offering aside but . . . actually . . . I snag his wrist and pull him closer; holding his gaze, I flick my tongue over the mayo and slowly feed the chip into my mouth.
His dimples disappear and darkness flashes in his gaze. I swallow. Lick the salt off his fingertips.
“Wow. I don’t think you need to sleep with me now. I came already.” I shove him, and he laughs. “Seriously. What was that smile about?”
Heat rises up my throat. I can’t meet his gaze. “Do you think sewing could be a career?”
“Yeah, Leon. I do.”
I pick up a chip and hope he doesn’t notice how much it shakes.
“I can help you set up a website,” he says softly. “And you could sell on TradeMe too.”
I glance at him, my throat thick with feeling.
My phone wails for attention and I shut my eyes briefly at the name on the screen.
“Karl?” Damon asks.
I nod.
“Want me to answer?”
Yes. Yes, that would be lovely. “Nah, I got it.” I clench his thigh to keep him there, stop him from getting up and minding his own business. I want him to hear; to be there in case I change my mind and launch the phone towards him.
Damon settles his hand atop mine and squeezes.
“Hey, Karl.”
“Leon. Look, about this weekend—something came up. I can be there the weekend after next.”
I stare up at Damon’s ceiling. Part of me is relieved—anything to postpone his return—but most of me wants it over and done with. And this throws everything off. Our fake boyfriend/engagement thing is only supposed to be a week-long affair. I sigh, gaze still cast upwards. “Fine. See you then.”
And he’s gone. I set down my phone. “Did you hear all that?”
“I did.”
“I should move back to the bach. Can we restart this in a couple of weeks?”
His voice is firm. “No.”
Disappointment rises like a bowling wave. I get it. He’ll want to move on to other pastures by then.
I nod and slip off my stool—
A hand grabs me around the wrist and Damon tugs me back against his thighs. His lips hit the curve of my ear. “Where are you going?”
“To pack?”
“You misunderstand me. I don’t want us to restart, I want us to continue.”
I whisk my head around and meet determined hazel eyes. “That’s a long time having me around.”
“More time is better.”
“It is?”
“You’ll be more relaxed around me. We’ll feel more established.”
“You mean like . . . method acting?”
His eyes narrow further and there’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. “Whatever you want to call it.” He clasps a hand around my nape and kisses me. “Just stay.”
Chapter Thirteen
Days pass in the blink of an eye and I’m still sharing Damon’s bed, evading every naughty attempt at seduction. After a much needed cool shower, I jump into clean pyjama pants and a t-shirt and towel-dry my hair as I make my way towards breakfast, where I find Damon murmuring to our fish as he drops food into their bowl.
“He still doesn’t get it. . . . No, I can’t just tell him. He won’t believe it. . . . He needs to recognise it on his own.”
He startles when I sling my damp towel over his shoulder.
“Who needs to recognise what on their own?”
He clutches the towel. “Troy.”
I pause, fingers mid-way through combing my hair. “What about Troy?”
Damon looks away.
My stomach twists in sympathy. I think I know. Troy’s exhaustion, the extended time his wife’s been gone on business, the sudden trips away when he needs us to babysit . . . “His marriage is ending, isn’t it?”
Damon rubs his forehead. “Ah, yes, actually. He keeps trying to get her to come home, but . . .”
“Heart-breaking.”
He nods. “He’ll be better off without her. They haven’t been happy for a long time.”
“I should go see him.”
Damon has moved to rubbing his slightly stubble speckled jaw. His concern is palpable. Maybe he feels he’s crossed a line, sharing this with me. Maybe he’s worried what I’ll do or say.
I remove his hand from his jaw and look him in the eye. “You’re right to let him come to terms with it on his own.”
“Am I?”
“Absolutely. But I want him to know he has my support. I’m there for him.”
Damon sighs. “Exactly.”
I rise on my toes and kiss him lightly. “You’re a good person.”
He holds me at the waist. My towel, over his shoulder, presses between us, seeping moisture into my shirt. His too.
Fingers fan up my back and he pulls me into a hug. “Am I still a good person if I want to lay on the clues?”
I chuckle. “If it’s what’s best for him . . . yes.”