Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Atlas treats me to a soft smile that truly does feel like getting surprised with a double scoop of bubblegum ice cream right when you have a craving for it. Everyone knows that bubblegum ice cream is the best.
“I could wait. And if you wanted to get flowers for the flower gardens, that might look even better for the exterior.”
“I’m pretty hopeless with gardening, but I’m going to do it. Flowers and vegetables. One thing I am good at is research.”
Research. Right. I know I should be doing research for the book I’m supposed to be writing. Even cranking out a short story or a novella would be great. I’ve done tons of research on all kinds of different publishing, everything from online to self-publishing to smaller publishers in and around this area. I can feel my stomach start to twist as I think about it, but this is important. Finding somewhere to live, owning your own home, and having it be habitable to provide a good, safe, and healthy atmosphere is important. I have some savings to get by. The house is now something out of a storybook. This whole experience has been. I’ve basically won the lottery, so no. I’m not going to let myself get stressed about losing a week or two of not writing.
It’ll come. It’ll happen. It will.
“My brother’s girlfriend is a writer.” Atlas swallows thickly and looks nervous for some reason. “I mean, she…yeah. She doesn’t live anywhere near here, but if you ever want some tips, I could put you in touch.”
“Really?” I have no idea how he knew I was just thinking about that.
“Of course. And if you need help picking out plants or getting your furniture, I’d be more than happy to help.”
Swoon. Just straight-up swoon. This guy is too perfect. I mean, he probably wants the house to look as good as it possibly can for those photos, but there’s an undercurrent in his tone that is like a brisk wind ready to sweep a person off their feet. That blast warms me instead of chilling me. He blinks at me again, so calm and steady, so freaking handsome standing there, and I once again have that tingling sensation of being seen.
“You’ve done so much already,” I try and protest. “I could let you know if I need help, but I could also take a stab at it myself. I’m sure you’re really busy. I can’t ever thank you enough for this, let alone add more work for you.”
“I won’t mind. It’s a passion of mine, actually.”
“Used furniture?” I asked.
“Restoring things. Antique pieces. I guess, yes, used furniture.”
“What about flowers?” I have no idea where the flirty, playful tone in my voice is coming from. I can’t recall ever sounding like this before because I was one of those people who thought flirting in any form was incredibly silly. “Is that a passion too?”
“I’m afraid I’d be lost there. But if you need help, I could get my granny to give you some tips.”
Seriously? Now he’s offering his family’s help. Oh my god, this guy.
I grasp a strand of my hair as it blows into my face, but I don’t let it go. I twist it around my finger over and over while I look up at Atlas shyly from beneath my lashes. “Careful. I might just take you up on that.”
He grins, easy in his huge, deliciously sinful body. Whoa. Deliciously sinful? He’s not a tempting dessert or that famous apple.
“I hope you do.” Then, he pauses before adding, “No, I more than hope you do. Will you let me take you to this antique store I love?”
“When?” I nearly gasp.
“How about tomorrow morning?”
“You aren’t busy?”
“I’m busy, but I can make it work.”
I really shouldn’t accept any more of his kindness. I feel like I’m sucking too much good karma out of the world, and I’m never going to be able to put enough back to even things out. I guess, though, this is kind of part of the project. The whole look. I don’t want to make crap choices and mess things up. Plus, I hardly know any good antique stores. I’m also way too shy to make offers, which I think people are supposed to do at those places. Plus, how will I get the furniture into the house by myself? I suppose I could hire movers, but maybe Atlas knows someone I could give the business to instead.
Or maybe I just want to spend a little bit more time with him.
Because he’s nice, kind, and smart, and I think we might have some things in common. Because I’m also hopelessly hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’s single. I know that last bit is pure fantasy longing on my part, but I can’t just shut it off. I’m intrigued, captivated, and maybe a little enthralled and enchanted.