Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
“Sure.” His eyes flick from my eyes to my mouth and back again. “Show me.”
I find myself hunched over his laptop in the office, pulling up the site my team has been working on.
“I love it, Sof.” He navigates across the various tabs. Some empty, some already filled with content.
“I’m taking a very hand-drawn approach to the aesthetic.” I point to the sketches for the various aspects of the site. “Along the lines of Megan Hess. In keeping with fashion sketches and design.”
I perch on the desk, pulling one leg up and resting my bare foot on the edge.
“And after this initial stage, I want to expand Haven into my own clothing line, home goods, furniture. The works.”
“Sofie, that’s brilliant.” He runs a finger over my hand, resting on the desk for support, the simple contact lighting fire to the goose bumps his touch arouses. “You’re brilliant.”
“We’ve all got our things.” I shrug, of all things embarrassed, and look for something to draw his focus away from me. A glass jar filled with tiny kernels on a shelf behind his desk provides the perfect distraction.
“What’s that?” I point to the glass jar.
Trevor reaches for it, stretching across me to grasp it, bringing us closer. He smiles at me, acknowledging the magnetic tug between us.
“This is my seed jar.” He points out the script writing etched across the front, handing it to me. “That’s a Ugandan proverb.”
“Sow seeds in your garden; wait and see what comes with the rain,” I read, tracing the faint letters with my nail. “What are these seeds from?”
“Everything we do isn’t diamond mining or some grand venture.” He pulls a seed from the top of the pile, holding it in his palm. “A lot of the places we visit are still primarily agrarian, and the best thing we can do is introduce the farmers to modernized agricultural techniques, show them how to more effectively grow their crops, and, subsequently, provide a better livelihood. Knowledge is the greatest charity because it continues giving.”
“Who said that?” I ask, trying to place it.
“I just did.” He grins and plops the seed back into the jar. “So every time we work with a new village, a new farmer, I keep one of the seeds we plant. I guess it’s a collection of sorts. Even though they all blend together, and I couldn’t tell you which one belongs to which village now, every one is special to me.”
“That’s really cool.” My response sounds lame compared to his impassioned eloquence, and I drop my head, chewing on my bottom lip, feeling like the vapid girl people assume I am.
He tips my chin up, smiling at me until I smile back.
“You’re right. It is pretty cool.”
His eyes fall to my lips, darkening to that delicious shade of chocolate I’m coming to crave. Just as I’m sure he’ll kiss me again, and wanting it so badly, the oven timer goes off, signaling the cobbler is ready. Desire tugs taut between us like hot wire. I’ve never let it simmer this way. I’ve always just given in to it, but there’s something about this slow build, this spark that grows hotter and brighter every time we look but don’t touch. Every time we smile but don’t kiss.
It makes me want him more.
“I may be biased,” I say around a mouthful of warm black and blue goodness, tempered by cold ice cream, “but I think this is the best cobbler I’ve ever had.”
“Have you had much cobbler, Ms. Yankee Supermodel?”
“No, can’t say I have.” I laugh, turning the spoon to cup my tongue. “But I bet it’s some of the best ever. We did good.”
“Things taste better when you make them yourself.” He scrapes his almost-empty bowl. “Just like things feel better when you build them yourself. I guess. I’ve never had anything handed to me; I’ve always built everything from scratch, so I don’t have much to compare it to.”
“Well, you’re right.” I slide my bowl over to him, still half full since he keeps eyeing what I can’t finish. “I’ve never felt as good as I do at the end of my workday now. Knowing I’m doing it all myself.”
He digs into my cobbler, nodding his agreement.
“I have to work out extra hard tomorrow after all this,” he says.
“Oh, will we see you in barre class again?” I grin, my chin resting on the heel of my hand.
“No, back to my Ironman regimen tomorrow.” He stands and steps close until his sweet, berry-scented breath brushes my lips. “Besides, I got what I wanted from the class.”
“What was that?” I lean forward another centimeter, tempting him to come the rest of the way. “A date with Anna?”
He looks confused for a moment, and then he understands.
“Oh, sorry. I forgot her name. Sweet girl, but no.” He inches in, his lips touching mine with his next words. “Was there ever any doubt why I was there? Who I wanted?”