Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“I’m so sorry this happened, Beth,” he said. His voice was awash with the regret and sympathy that she saw reflected in his eyes.
“I told you before, it’s not your fault. I decided to do this. I knew the risks and I had some f-fun today.” She heard the lie in the last four words and knew he did too.
He didn’t call her out on the lie though. Instead, he nodded thoughtfully, and removed her keys from the ignition.
He was out of the car and opening the passenger door before she had a chance to react. Next thing she knew he was leaning over her, all businesslike, and unclipping her seatbelt. She caught a whiff of his deodorant mixed in with the scent of his sweat and found herself suppressing the uncharacteristic urge to bury her nose into his neck and inhale the delicious scent of him.
Fortunately she managed to resist the impulse because that would be weird.
Still…why did he have to smell so damned good?
“Beth?”
Gideon had a hand out to assist her from the car. How long had she left him hanging while she sat here simmering in a haze of lust?
Too long if his confused expression was anything to go by.
“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about work,” she lied, turning in her seat, and swinging her legs out of the car before taking his hand with her right one. He gave her a gentle tug of assistance, and she was standing almost pressed up to his chest seconds later.
Damn it! This was not better.
Thankfully he stepped back before she could get all fluttery and silly again.
“Need anything from the car?”
He was being so considerate and she really appreciated that.
“Just my handbag, thank you.”
He retrieved her big, bulky tote.
“Fuck me, Lizzy-bit,” he said with a grimace. “Why are you carrying rocks around in your bag?”
“It’s not that bad, you’re such a drama queen sometimes,” she laughed. “If you reach into the side pocket, you’ll find my house keys.”
He obeyed and almost immediately produced the keychain.
“Lead the way,” he said, after handing it to her. He stepped aside with a sweeping gesture and allowed her to precede up the short side path leading from the carport to her porch.
Beth unlocked the door with slightly shaking hands, not sure why she felt nervous, and then turned to face him. He was too close again, but seemed to recognize it this time, and took a step back to give her some space.
“Thank you for everything,” she said, as she reached for her tote, which he still had slung over one broad shoulder.
“I’ll carry it inside for you,” he said.
“It’s okay, I—” His flat, unimpressed glare silenced her protest and she sighed. “You’re going to insist, aren’t you?”
“This thing is heavy and you’re nursing several injuries. I’d be a prick if I let you struggle with it.”
“I’d hardly classify them as injuries…more like, bumps and bruises.”
“Same thing.” His voice was so dry, she marveled that he didn’t die of thirst right on the spot.
“Also, carrying something from the front door to the couch is hardly going to—”
“Beth.” The sound of her name in that deep, exasperated voice muted her and she stared at him with wide eyes. She was being silly. He was only doing what was decent. And Gideon—she had to admit—was a decent man.
Frustrating, infuriating, and audacious as hell, but ultimately decent. And not accepting his help on such a small matter, after everything else that he’d done for her today, would be petty.
She sighed and stepped inside, aware of him following closely behind her. He passed her to drop the bag on her kitchen counter.
“What are you planning to do for dinner?”
Beth, who’d been toeing off her sneakers at the front door, looked up at his question, a frown beetling her brow as she considered his words. A quick glance up at the kitchen clock confirmed that it was nearly seven—they’d been at the hospital for most of the day—and now that she thought about it, apart from being absolutely exhausted, she was starving.
“Not sure. A sandwich maybe.” The thought of a sandwich didn’t appeal, but she couldn’t do much else with her wrist in this condition.
“You shouldn’t use that wrist too much tonight. I’ll prepare something for you.”
She watched in slack-jawed astonishment as he quite brazenly walked to her fridge and opened it.
“I could make an omelet,” he suggested over his shoulder.
“For dinner?”
“You’ve never had breakfast for dinner?”
She was losing control of this conversation. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not doing it now. I don’t need you to cook for me. I’ll be fine.”
“Or what about a grilled cheese sandwich? I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich. Although maybe it won’t be as filling as the omelet.”
“Gid—”
“You do have bread, right?”
“Yes.”
“That settles it.”
“Wait…”
What?
Seriously, what was happening right now?
“You get freshened up; I’ll throw together a quick meal.”