Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
“Meowing or …”
“No, he wasn’t meowing. That was the thing about Frenchie, he had a birth defect that took his voice. The most he could ever do was sort of a grunt. But I heard him all the same. He was stuck in Mr. Byron’s basement. Mr. Byron was an older man who had two Dobermans. Somehow, Frenchie had squeezed his way into Mr. Byron’s basement–he told me later that he was chasing a lizard, trying to get back to his natural state as an apex predator or something. I think he’d been watching too many nature documentaries, but anyway, I heard him calling for help. He sounded so tired and sad. I told my mom. She listened intently but didn’t hear anything except the Dobermans barking in Mr. Byron’s yard. I insisted Frenchie was in the basement, that he was starving and needed help. I remember being so afraid that she wouldn’t believe me and it would be my fault if Frenchie didn’t make it out.”
I move closer to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. The emotion in her voice is still somewhat raw, as if she remembers the whole thing so clearly–maybe a little too clearly.
She sighs and leans into me. “I think I made such a scene about it that my mom got scared. I cried. Kicked when she tried to pull me away. It was a whole drama.” She laughs a little. “When I wouldn’t stop screaming bloody murder, she finally gave in. Mr. Byron got his dogs locked away in a bedroom, and he found Frenchie just where I said he would be. After that, my parents believed me. Mom even did this whole genealogy thing to track our ancestors, hoping to find someone else with the same ability.”
“Did she?”
“Well, one of my great-great-great grandmothers was hanged as a witch in Scotland, so maybe?” She shrugs. “And I think that may have been the start of my parents getting more in touch with what they call ‘the shared divine.’ Not a religion or anything, just the belief that there’s more to our world than what we can see or hear. You know, the ‘woo-woo’ stuff.”
“So, you’re the reason they live in a yurt?” I tease.
She laughs, the sound breaking what remained of her tension in sharing about Frenchie. “Maybe so. But they’re happy, and that’s really all that matters to me. They spent their lives serving the community with their teaching, and they were always there for me. They deserve to live whatever life makes them content.”
Have I ever met someone with goodness written so large across their character? I can’t say I have. And something about it is beyond intoxicating. Maybe it’s because I’m so damn jaded. I don’t know, but I’m drawn to her like I’ve never been drawn to anyone before in my life.
“Did all that sound really weird?” She ducks her head.
“No.” I tilt her chin back up to me, her lips stained slightly red from the wine. “It sounds amazingly kind and brave. Do you intend to surprise me like this on the regular?”
“I surprise you?” Her gaze darts to my mouth.
“From the moment I saw you, yes.” There’s no lie in my words. Nothing is more true than my complete infatuation with this woman.
When she smiles again, I press my lips to hers, tasting the wine, her sweetness, her uniqueness. I get lost in it, swiping my tongue across hers as a low growl rumbles through my chest. She grips my shirt, holding on to me as I deepen the kiss, tasting and taking from this ethereal creature, this angel dropped in my lap.
The table moves, our server bringing our food, but I don’t stop kissing her, not until she’s breathless, her eyes dazed. My mind is likewise fogged, a haze of lust coating every bit of reason in my brain. If I don’t slow down, I’m going to scare her away. If I don’t slow down … I might never be able to stop.
14
MAY
“Idon’t think I can eat another bite.” Still, my eyes scan over the dessert menu. I am stuffed, but who can say no to dessert? Plus, I don’t want the night to end already. I can’t recall the last time I went out and had this much fun. In fact, I never go out. Too many humans out there, all of them practically inscrutable to me.
“How about we get some to go?”
“Oh, I love that idea.” I take another sip of my wine. I should probably stop. I mean, I’ve lost track of how many glasses I’ve had, but they are going down easily.
My face is already warm, but that could be from all the kisses. Not to mention all of Carson’s touches. There's always a part of him that finds a way to brush against me. Every time he touches me, I experience a giddy, excited sensation that floods my entire body. This must be the essence of what a crush is. I never understood how girls could lose their head over a man, but I’m starting to get it. It’s intense and a bit overwhelming.