Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Oh, go to hell,” I grumbled, rolling over so my face was against the back of the couch. “I’m tired.”
“Okay,” he agreed, his chuckle warm. “Don’t sleep with your glasses on.”
I groaned and rolled back over, taking them off, laying them beside him on the table. I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to look at him.
I heard the coffee table creak as his weight lifted off it, and I wondered for the millionth time why he had to be such a dick all the time.
I fell asleep again without my soup.
I heard clinking, and when I moved and stretched, my feet hit something solid. I lifted my head and found Cord staring at me from the other end of the couch.
“Still here?” I asked, reaching for my glasses, my voice gravelly and low.
“Yep.” He pulled my foot into his lap and squeezed it tight.
“Oh God,” I groaned because the way he was rolling his knuckles under the arch of my foot was bliss.
“Your whole body is tense,” he informed me.
“I’m aware,” I grumbled. I pulled my foot out of his grip and sat up, putting both feet on the floor. “I’m still sore too.”
“You hungry?”
I nodded as I put on my glasses.
“Tracy, honey,” my dad called over from where he and everyone were playing Texas Hold’em. “Do you want that soup now?”
“Chicken noodle will make me puke,” I told him honestly.
“I made your mother’s sopón de pollo con arroz,” he said gently.
“You did?” I asked, standing up.
“Yes.” He smiled at me. “Beth helped.”
I turned my gaze to her. “Thank you.”
She nodded quickly. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re so welcome.”
I felt like she was treating me like a child, but that was okay since I was hurt and everything.
“Just sit,” Dad ordered me. “I’ll bring you some.”
“Dad, I can—”
“Listen to your old man,” Cord told me.
I was about to argue, ready to leave the living room, when he took hold of me, his grip like iron on my wrist. “What’re you doing?” His gaze met mine.
“Cord?”
“Siddown.”
Instead, I stood there, staring at him.
“Please,” he croaked out.
It was too much to look and not touch him. I gave up at the same time he gave me a gentle tug. I sank down onto the couch beside him. When he lifted his arm, I curled into his warmth and put my hand on his wide, muscular chest and my head on his shoulder. I craved his solid strength, and I closed my eyes when I felt him brush his lips over my forehead. The tenderness undid me, and I pressed in tightly against him. I was almost holding my breath, worried the moment would pass, but he seemed content to hold me, and I was content to let him.
“Thanks,” he muttered, low and hoarse in my ear.
“What’re you thanking me for?”
“The trust right here. I’ve been hoping for it.”
“I don’t think trust has ever been our issue.”
“No?”
“Not in a physical way. I mean, I know you would never let anything happen to me. You would never allow me to get hurt.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“It’s my heart that would have been in jeopardy,” I said, hoping to sound playful.
“Not anymore.”
I nodded.
“You don’t believe me.”
“Are you hungry?” I asked, changing the subject. He’d asked me, but I hadn’t checked on him. “Do you want to eat with me?”
“I would love to,” he said, nuzzling against my temple. “But really, Trace, I swear, your heart would never be in danger with me.”
I stared at him, uncertain what I was supposed to say.
“You can count on me.”
Could I? On Cord?
He smiled suddenly. “You think your dad will bring me some soup too?”
I asked my father to bring a bowl for Cord as well, and he seemed pleased. “This is so weird.”
“What?” Cord asked.
“It’s like I’m in some alternate dimension where you, Cord Nolan, actually like me,” I teased him.
“I like you just fine.”
He was making my stomach flutter.
When my father brought over the chunky, spicy chicken soup, so much better than chicken noodle or anything from a can, Cord inhaled the delicious aroma and smiled at me.
“You’re gonna love it,” I said, passing him his napkin.
“I’m already good,” he said, his voice warm.
I nudged him with my elbow, and we ate together quietly while the others played. It was nice to just sit and talk with him and not feel like either of us was going to run away, like we normally did.
“We should do this more often,” I told him.
“I would like that.”
When I lay back down after dinner, Cord took the bowls to the sink. I wanted to talk to him some more when he came back, and decided to just put my head down for a little bit. I couldn’t remember ever being so tired.
When I stirred later, the house was dark. I rolled over and saw Alex asleep in the recliner in front of the fireplace, and for a minute I thought about getting up and going over there and waking him—both of us needed to be in a bed—but I was too stiff and cold. I lost my balance suddenly and put my hand down on the floor to steady myself, but instead of touching rug, I got dog.