Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I wondered if she chose my shirt because of the smell, or just because her only remaining nighttime clothes were too revealing. My hardening dick didn’t seem to care about the specifics, at least. A very large part of me liked seeing her in my shirt. It made her feel like she was mine, even if the feeling was as fleeting as it was foolish.
I wanted to wake her up. To pull her into my arms and forget about the Wellingtons and their schemes. To pretend, just for a little while, that we could have something real.
Instead, I grabbed my own shower and tried not to think about how I said something wrong at the tiny taco joint. I’d replayed the conversation over in my mind a few times, and wondered if maybe she thought I was still hung up on Katie. It was ridiculous, of course. Katie was completely dead to me. Hell, even the thought of her made me vaguely nauseous at this point.
The kind of woman who could lie to a man’s face and go through with a wedding while cheating… it wasn’t somebody I wanted to keep associating with.
I wondered if I should tell her plainly tomorrow morning—tell her in no uncertain terms that I’m completely, totally, and unequivocally over Katie.
I stood in the shower, letting the warm water run down my back as I leaned against the wall.
But what kind of message would it send if I looked like I was trying to clarify how emotionally available I was? She’d think I was trying to jump from “fun and easy” to “stressful and committed.”
Damn it. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut and ate my tiny burritos earlier.
I finished up, slipped into bed as quietly as I could, and had to settle for the Emma that came to me in my dreams. All things considered, it wasn’t so bad, considering dream-Emma had no rules about penetration.
The next morning, we gathered in the resort's lobby for what the itinerary promised would be "A Wild Mountain Adventure." Our guide was a tall woman named June who wore her gray hair in a messy bun and spoke with infectious enthusiasm about the local wildlife.
"Now remember," she said as we piled into two large SUVs that were outfitted for offroading in the snow. "The goal is to spot the more elusive creatures—moose, elk, maybe even a bear if we're lucky. But please, for the love of all things holy, do not try to pet anything. I don't care how cute it looks."
She fixed Dick with a stern look, as if sensing he was exactly the type to try to take a selfie with a bear.
I ended up in the back row with Emma, who had been unusually quiet since our talk at the taco place. She'd barely looked at me all morning, and the distance felt wrong after how close we'd been. Instead of getting breakfast with me, she’d made an excuse about needing to check with the florist and disappeared until a few minutes ago.
June stood outside both SUVs, which were loaded up with most of the main Wellingtons, from Richard and Dick to the three handsome brothers and even the stuck-up ice-princess named Charity. Our SUV was me, Emma, Marcus, Lilly, and Emma’s mom.
“Oh, by the way,” June said, resting her hand on the open window of our SUV. “Sometimes, you can even spot a beaver out here. Now, I love beaver as much as the rest of you, I’m sure.”
I suppressed a highly immature chuckle at her choice of words. Even Emma looked like she was biting back a smile.
“But no touching beavers. Understood? I have a very strict hands-off-beaver rule on my expeditions.”
I was having more trouble not laughing now, and I could tell Emma was too.
“You should see people,” June continued, completely oblivious. “Oh, look at the pretty beaver. Look at the fat, pudgy little beaver! Let me get closer to that beaver and put my hand on it! What’s the worst that could happen?”
June suddenly snapped her oversized front teeth, eyes narrowed. “That’s what. Beavers bite, folks. You can trust me on that,” she held up a hand, which I realized showed half of a missing pinky finger.
“Did a beaver really do that?” Lily asked.
“Huh?” June said. “Oh, no. I was in a shopping cart that tipped over when I was little. Popped the top of my pinky off so hard we couldn’t find it. Turned out it got lost in the baby carrots.” She slapped the side of the SUV and jumped into the passenger seat. “Let that be another life lesson, folks. Never trust a baby carrot. Could be somebody’s finger! Anyway, let’s get these babies on the road!”
The SUVs wound through mountain roads as June pointed out various tracks and signs of wildlife. Every few minutes, someone would spot something—usually a bird or squirrel—and the whole vehicle would lurch to a stop as cameras came out.