Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“I think you got enough details out of me for one morning.” I kept my voice light, but no way was I discussing anything sexual with God’s Gift to Flannel. I already wanted him more than was prudent. Hell, if I were honest, his pull over me wasn’t simply gratitude hormones from the night before. I’d found him compelling the first time I’d seen him at the tavern, and each interaction made him all the more intriguing. Complicating this further would be all kinds of dumb, even if he did seem to be offering the sort of sex I’d only ever dreamed about.
“Suit yourself.” Adam scooped up our plates and took them to the sink. “Guess I better run you home now. You slept late.”
“I never sleep late.”
“You did.” He pointed at a plastic clock over the sink before running water over the dishes. Scooping up keys and wallet from the counter, he turned back to me. “Let’s go. Your shoes are in the bedroom.”
Thank you, Daddy. My first crystal-clear memory of last night arrived—how he’d tenderly removed my shoes. His hands had been so gentle, his hair soft and silky under my fingertips, and I wanted to touch it again. Yearning swept through me, making my chest hurt. I wanted his tenderness, maybe most of all, and that was the thing that scared me the worst.
Needing out of there and away from my own longing, I retrieved my shoes as quickly as I could. We were almost to the door when I stopped.
“Wait. Your shirt—”
Adam waved my concern away. “You can get it back to me some other time. Believe me, you don’t want anything to do with yours right now.”
A massive shudder raced through me. “I can’t believe I let myself get so…messy.”
“Yeah, well, blame it on the drinks I mixed for you.” He rolled his eyes at me before he ushered me out the door.
My steps slowed. I had the strangest urge to ask him to go back inside and have another cup of coffee. My gaze traveled over his muscular back, oak-strong legs, and broad shoulders. His build was one more reason that unloading some of my burdens on him had felt so good. So right.
But that wasn’t fair to him. Simply because he looked the part of the strong lumberjack Daddy didn’t mean he needed all my baggage. And I certainly couldn’t give voice to desires I didn’t entirely understand myself.
“What’s your address?” he asked, tapping on his phone as we stopped beside an old pickup.
I answered him, my gaze on the battered and world-weary-looking truck behind him. With a little work, it would be a classic.
“This is your truck?”
“Yep. Problem?” He slid into the driver’s seat, leaving me to scramble into the passenger side.
“No. Haven’t seen one this old in years. Reminds me of growing up.” I didn’t have to try hard to make my tone warm. I had a genuine appreciation for a good work truck.
“Where are you from?”
“Small town outside of Portland. Plenty of farmers and working folks. I was the odd one out, always studying, more concerned about grades than football.”
“I was the football type.” Adam’s mouth turned down as he backed out of his driveway, part wistful, part grimace.
I wanted to ask him more about his football days. Heck, I wanted to ask him all kinds of things about his life, but it was unfair to demand his life stories when I was trying not to burden him with more of mine.
I kept my voice light and said, “I can imagine you tackling things.”
“Oh, I was skinny back then. Filled out more in my twenties.”
“How old are you now?” I asked. He made twenty sound like ancient history, but even with the beard and large stature, he still seemed younger than me.
“Thirty.” He slid me a meaningful look as we arrived at a stop sign.
That word was hanging between us again. Daddy. He was younger than me by about five years. With his rugged looks and commanding attitude, he could undoubtedly play the Daddy role convincingly, even if he was on the younger side. My libido sure thought so, at least. Daddy. That was the energy I’d first picked up on from him and maybe part of why I’d steered clear.
“I’ll be thirty-five soon,” I reminded myself more than him, another reason why I couldn’t give in to the urge to explore with him, find out exactly what sort of Daddy he was.
“So?” Adam rolled his neck lazily like our age difference was nothing at all. “We’re practically the same age. World of difference between now and twenty if you ask me.”
I groaned my agreement. “You couldn’t pay me to be eighteen again.”
“I hear you. I don’t mind…hanging out with a younger guy on occasion, but legal-to-drink is preferable, even for a hookup.”