Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Can I take a shower?” she asked. Her eyes lifted and she met my stare. A wave of tears settled in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. That wasn’t shocking. “I need to get out of this damn dress.”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll grab some of my sweats and get you set up. If you want, I can run you a bath in my primary bathroom. It’s huge and relaxing. I got lavender bubble bath soap, Epsom salts, and bath bombs, too.”
She tilted her head. “You still take baths?”
“Ever since you told me how good they were for muscle recovery, I’m kind of a bath snob.”
“I always did give you the best ideas.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “You did.”
She almost smiled, and I almost loved it.“Stop trying to make me not hate you anymore.”
I laughed. “Did you already forget that I get turned on by your hatred, Coach?”
She rolled her eyes. “Can you draw me a bath?”
I stepped closer to her and removed one of the flowers from her hair. My hand slightly brushed against her cheek as I nodded slowly. “I can draw you a bath.”
Her mouth slightly parted, and I was almost certain a sarcastic comment was going to fall from her lips. Instead, her eyes shut, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb, and her body shivered.
“You don’t have to do this, Ave,” I muttered, watching her fight like hell to keep from breaking. “You don’t have to pretend to be strong today.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because being weak never helped me before.” She shook her softness away, and I watched her eyes harden once more as her browns reappeared. She swiped away the tears that snuck past her stubbornness and rolled her shoulders back.
“Will you draw me a bath?” she asked once more.
“I will draw you a bath,” I echoed.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Be right back. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Though I haven’t been here in a while, so I’m sure it’s all expired.”
“If I recall correctly, you had no problem eating expired food.”
“Butter and eggs don’t expire,” I countered.
“Butter and eggs definitely expire,” she disagreed. “And so does cheese.”
“If there’s no green, it’s good to go.”
She shook her head in disapproval. “That’s how you ended up with food poisoning way back when.”
“I still think it was a twelve-hour flu.”
“That’s because you’re hardheaded.”
“You always did know me best.”
The corner of her mouth twitched.
Almost another smile.
Damn.
I missed her smiles.
“Bath, Nathaniel.”
“On it, Coach.”
I headed to the bathroom and began to draw her a bath. The number of bath products I had was a running joke with my brothers. Every time they come over to my place, they’d mock me for my drawer of bathtime goodies. From oils to bath bombs to skin conditioners, I had it all. The joke was on them, though. Due to my bath routine, I’d have baby-smooth skin into my late sixties.
I got the water running and added lavender bath salts because I figured that would help Avery relax a little. I could only imagine the thoughts swirling through her mind as she tried to process what she’d been through that afternoon.
What happened with her and Wesley?
Why did the wedding get called off?
Who called it off?
There were a million questions I wanted answers to, but I knew it was none of my business until Avery made it my business. The only thing I knew was that if she was willing to run away with me—her sworn enemy—she must’ve been dealing with a lot of heavy thoughts.
Even seeing that single tear move down her cheek was a big sign of her hurting. One teardrop from Avery Kingsley was like a million tears from the average crier.
Willow was so in touch with her emotions that she probably would’ve cried enough to create her own river.
I lit a few candles around the bathroom, too, and poured her a glass of red wine. Before she came in, I tossed a jazz record onto the turntable. Was it odd I had a turntable set up in a bathroom? Maybe. But I took my bath time seriously. I was one to stay in until my fingertips looked like raisins.
As I walked out of the bathroom, I found Avery sitting on my couch, flipping through the baseball book I had as my coffee table centerpiece.
“Bath time,” I said, breaking her stare from the book.
She shut it and held it close to her chest. “Can I read this in the tub?”
“You can do whatever you want here, Avery Kingsley.”
She took a deep breath. “That’s right. I’m still a Kingsley.”
“Does that make you happy or sad?”
“Neither.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It just makes me numb.”
That made me sad for her, but I didn’t mention that because I was almost certain she’d chew my ass out for being sad for her.