Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Well, for one, you aren’t a picky customer. There’ve been zero changes in your project, minus the shit with your countertops. The fault isn’t yours on that either, so don’t start thinking about it again. Now, as far as you sleeping with me, it’s an added bonus.” He is currently working on a few touchups, adding a pullout I ordered from the store for baking sheets, pot and pan holders in the lazy Susan cabinet in the corner.
“Then maybe when I need a new cabinet for the bathroom, I’ll call you.” I’ve finally set up the working hours I’ve wanted, working from nine to five, only doing a few things at night when Trace has to catch up with his work, too.
“You about ready? I told my parents we’d meet them at Cooper’s for dinner,” Trace springs on me without any notice. I look down at my clothes. I’m wearing a shirt and shorts, nothing I’d ever wear outside the house, let alone to meet his parents.
“Uhm, did I hear you right? Your parents and dinner in the same sentence?” Maybe I’m hallucinating. When Trace met my parents, he had ample warning, or at least I thought three days was plenty. Maybe I was mistaken.
“Yep, your parents will be there as well. Gia and Coop, too. Only one missing is Wes.” He winces on his name. This is how I know he’s hurting, yet he won’t talk about it, and I’m scared to keep asking if he’s okay. “This won’t take me much longer. Supposed to meet them in thirty minutes.”
I cross my arms over my chest, cock a hip out, and start coming up with the words to tell him he’s fucking nuts for springing this on me so last minute. But then he looks up from the squatted position he’s in while working on tightening a screw, arms flexing, and the way he is looking at me has me needing a cold freaking shower. “I should be really mad at you, except you’re working on my house, taking care of me more than I ever thought I’d find in a man, and now you’re giving me that look.”
“What look is that, babe?” He plays dumb. I roll my eyes and lean a hip on the peninsula, edging me closer to where he is. His eyes hit me between my thighs, causing me to squirm.
“That look.” I point at him. “The one you have written on your face, saying I’m going to devour you, and then we won’t be leaving on time because as it is, I’m not ready. I mean, look at what I’m wearing. And you, you’re springing this on me so last minute. I’ve got no makeup on, and my hair is a ratted mess, in desperate need to be washed.” Total truth. Dry shampoo has been my lifeline lately. Anytime I’m done with work earlier than planned, I head outside to work in the yard, weeding the flowerbeds, not mowing or weed eating, definitely not trimming back branches. Trace made sure my tools were put away, the loppers specifically. I can honestly say the flowerbeds are weeded, the dirt tilled and ready for plants and flowers this weekend. That being said, my hair will literally stand up on end the second I take it out if the messy knot. Heck, there’s probably a stench coming off me, too.
“Josie, go change. Do what you gotta do. I’ll call and push the reservations back. I know the owner, unless you want me to cancel entirely, take you right here.” He licks his lips in a lascivious manner. I spin around in preparation to take off running, not walking.
“Are you crazy? I think you need your head examined. No way are you calling to push back the time or canceling. Do you know how bad that will look as a first impression to your parents?” I wave my hands around before continuing with my spiel. “And put your tongue away. Now is not the time to make me wet. I’ve got twenty minutes to look presentable, and you’re not helping me!” I holler over my shoulder. I’m met with laughter. This right here, how he calms me down after riling me up, never in my wildest thoughts did I think I’d find a relationship like my parents have, yet here I am, getting more than I’d hoped and dreamed.
I get started on my hair, ripping the hair tie out of it while walking to the closet. A dress would be the easiest thing. Time is of the essence, and trying on a million outfits won’t work. I settle on a white and coral flower pattern, fitted at the top and flaring out around my hips. I lay it on the bed and grab a pair of dressier sandals, then it’s time to head to the bathroom. The short amount of time and the beast that is my hair are going to have me sucking fumes, and when we come home tonight, I’ll be too tired to deal with the washing and drying of it, and I’ll go another day of procrastinating the process.