Total pages in book: 196
Estimated words: 188002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 940(@200wpm)___ 752(@250wpm)___ 627(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 188002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 940(@200wpm)___ 752(@250wpm)___ 627(@300wpm)
“I liked that song,” I say. I’m surprised he walked away from the small crowd. People were throwing more cash into his jar than I’ve ever seen them give. “I could tell it’s one of yours.”
He shoves up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and stretches his arms. “It’s new. It’s called ‘Butterflies and Madness.’”
“I like it a lot. It was like a mix of everything you’ve ever played all at once. It sounded amazing.”
His eyes light up at the compliments, and I’m enthralled with how the color of his eyes can change so quickly. “That’s what I was going for. You’ve inspired me.”
“Me?”
“You.” He clicks his tongue piercing against his teeth, a habit I’ve noticed a few times, usually when he seems to be wrestling with a thought. “You didn’t come see me yesterday.”
My mental pile was right after all. “I didn’t know if you wanted to see me. You didn’t say anything—”
“Yeah, I’m not good with plans. I just kind of assume things will happen.”
I laugh at his honesty. “That can make things a little confusing.”
He grins and nods. “I know, babe.”
I’m sure thousands of women are called babe on a daily basis, but to have it said to me in such a deep, sensual, caressing voice that makes my insides turn to mush is nothing short of amazing.
“I can’t call you, Piper. I don’t have a phone or even a fucking calendar. Most of the time, I’m not even sure what day it is. I can’t take you to dinner or to movies or any of that fun shit. I’m working with limited options here.”
My heart constricts, and emotion clogs up in a lump in my throat. “None of that matters to me.”
He touches my cheek and turns my face toward him. “You sure about that?” A veil of sadness shrouds his blue eyes again, and I’m struck with the need to do anything to take it away.
“I’m positive.”
He leans closer to me, and I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead, he brushes his stubbly cheek against mine and nudges his lips against my ear. “Then bring your sweet ass here after work.” His hoarse tone drips with raw sexual power, and I submit. A burst of sheer excitement courses through me, and I feel like, if someone were to cut me open right now, my veins would drip glitter and rainbows.
“Okay,” I reply with a soft exhale. “I’ll be here.”
Here. There. Anywhere. None of it matters as long as I get to hear his voice, stare into those cobalt eyes, and feel his lips on mine.
For once, the afternoon at work goes by quickly. I call my mother from my desk to tell her I won’t be home for dinner and then move my car from the office parking lot to a safe spot on the street. Leaving it at the office after hours would raise questions, and I don’t want anyone poking around in my personal business.
I’m surprised to see Evan and Acorn waiting at the gates for me, one with a smile and one with a wagging tail. Blue takes my hand in his and looks up and down the street at the five o’clock traffic before talking.
“You mind if we go for a walk?” he asks.
I shake my head, and he puts his stuff in my car before he leads me down the street in the opposite direction from my office. We walk about four blocks until we reach a dead-end street with very few houses and zero traffic. As we approach the woodsy end of the road, I realize we’re in the same spot where we had sex in the car the other night. He stops walking and gestures to the last house on the left, which is set back from the road, surrounded by trees.
“I love this house.” He stares across the lawn affectionately. “There’s just something about it.”
The Tudor-style house he loves has clearly been abandoned for a long time. The stone and stucco are dirty with age and lack of care. The dark wood trim that probably once gave the home a very distinguished storybook feel is now hidden behind decaying leaves. The focal point of the house is definitely the arched wooden front door with its huge iron knocker and handle which is less than inviting given its surroundings. The grass is overgrown and riddled with weeds and twigs, and the windows have been boarded up with sheets of plywood. I try to see the house through Blue’s eyes. Perhaps he sees beyond the ruin. I see that in Blue in so many ways. His unusual perspective isn’t distracted by the dirt and decay that might turn others away. I feel like he sees beauty where others refuse to look.
“Let’s take a look around back,” he says, tugging my hand.