Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
I sat in that booth every day. Making phone calls, paying bills, building my menu. It was the only table left where I could spread out and work.
But I’d never sat with him.
I didn’t need to understand why that booth or sandwich was so special to recognize that his invitation was huge.
And if it wasn’t huge to him, it sure as hell was to me.
“Um…” I bought myself a second to think by glancing over my shoulder. The place was a disaster and I’d be lucky if I made it home by midnight with as much tile work as I had left to do.
The easy and obvious answer was no.
But it was Truett.
“Of course.” I made a move toward the opposite side of the booth but stopped in my tracks when he slid over to make room for me beside him.
I stared at him—his expression open and welcoming, not a hint of doubt or discomfort marring his handsome face. It was as if my place beside him was a given. And damn it if that wasn’t my version of the club sandwich—a seemingly simple gesture that carried such profound depth.
My nose stung as I accepted his offer. The booth squeaked under our combined weight as I slid in beside him. He was far enough away that our bodies didn’t touch, but a comfortable warmth radiated between us. The silence that followed was both familiar and charged.
It was crazy how perfectly comfortable I’d been standing beside the table, the proximity only changing by inches, but sitting beside him in that booth felt so personal and intimate it unnerved me. I faced forward, knotting my hands in my lap, unsure what to do or say.
Was there going to be a conversation during this little visit? Or was he expecting me to sit there while he fidgeted and grumbled the way he’d done the prior week? Suddenly, cutting tile didn’t sound so bad.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said.
I flashed him a forced grin. “It’s just a sandwich, True.”
He angled his body, putting his back to the wall so he was partially facing me, and drew in a deep breath. “Sure. But it’s also a booth, and letting me invade your space each week, and… Well, mainly I just appreciate you not telling me to go to hell the first night I showed up here.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure I did do that.”
He chuckled and I turned, hooking my leg up on the bench so I could face him too. I think it was also an unconscious effort to create a barrier between us, but it backfired monumentally. He wasn’t as far away as I’d thought and my lower leg pressed against the length of his thigh. Before I had the chance to shift and apologize for bumping him, his hand came down landing on my knee.
His touch closed a current, electricity sparking inside me. It was both painful and euphoric. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to cry or rage at the unfairness of the world, because in over eighteen years, never had a man’s touch felt so right.
His face flashed dark and ominous, but not like his usual storm. Raw need and desire stared back at me.
“How do you do this to me?” he rasped almost painfully. “Why do you do this to me?”
“It’s just a sandwich,” I repeated, knowing good and damn well that wasn’t what he meant.
“It’s not though. It’s you.”
I swallowed hard, unsure if he considered me being me a good thing or not.
Until…
Leaning toward me, he brushed a braid off my shoulder, his fingertips trailing across my neck. A chill raced down my spine as his gaze locked on my mouth, his tongue snaking out to dampen his lips.
I knew that look. Oh my God, did I know that look.
He was going to kiss me. And I was suddenly terrified I was going to let him.
I hated him.
Supposedly.
Allegedly.
Shit, did I still hate him?
I was all too aware how talented his lips were. It had been a lifetime since anyone had kissed me like he did. Jeff had never ignited me like Truett. In a way, it was why I’d married him. Jeff was a controlled burn rather than the wildfire of the man in front of me.
“Truett, please,” I breathed, but I didn’t know if it was a plea for his mouth or his mercy.
His fingers curled around the back of my neck. “Please what?”
Back up.
Kiss me.
Never come back.
Stay.
Oh fuck it…
“Ki—”
That was all I got out before a flash exploded through the room. In the next second, I was tackled to the floor. His hand cradled my head to soften the blow, but my back hit hard on the edge of the tile, the spacers digging into my shoulders as his heavy body crashed on top of me.