Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“You could leave a few things,” I offer. “It’s not like you won’t be back.”
He pauses with a t-shirt in his hand, then looks up. “Um, yeah. Sure.” Awkwardly, he pulls a couple of things from his suitcase. Pants, some underwear, and a few shirts. He even picks up a pair of socks but no shoes and then sets it all on top of my dresser. “That good?”
“Mhm,” I say.
He kneels down, zipping his bag up.
“Hey, Jake?”
“Yeah?”
Come on, Caroline. You can do this. Just like you practiced. It’s an innocent question and totally won’t look like the first step in your brilliant master plan.
“Uh,” I say, “Would it freak you out if I came to some of your games this season? I’d bring Walker. I thought it might be cool for him to be able to say he was there at your games. You know, when he’s older.” I’m also thinking about what Jake said–about how he showed me his vulnerability and worries that he wouldn’t be around enough to be a good father. I want him to know we’re a team, regardless of our status as a couple. I will do what I can to make it easier for him.
“Oh.” Jake’s face brightens. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say, biting my lip.
He looks like he’s trying to hide his excitement at the idea. He keeps smiling, smoothing his face into a neutral expression, then smiling again. Finally, he nods seriously. “I’ll talk with the team guys today. They’ll get you all set up for the rest of the season. Tickets, airfare, hotels, transportation.”
“You really don’t have to go through all that trouble,” I say, my voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and desperation. The truth is, money has been a constant worry, especially with the recent plumbing issues at the B&B. I could only afford to attend a couple of games this season on my own.
“It’s as easy as a text,” he shrugs. “Oh, and I’ll send you some jerseys.”
"Jerseys?" I ask, my curiosity piqued. “Yeah, ones with my name on them," he replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I’ll get a little one for Walker, too. Can’t have you showing up to games without the proper gear. Or worse, somebody else’s."
“Oh,” I say. “But I was planning to wear Liam’s jersey at the games. He’s so cu–”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Something dangerous is in Jake’s eyes.
I bite back a smile. “I was just kidding. Really, I wanted to wear Carter’s jers–”
Jake swallows the distance between us in one step and presses his finger to my lips. “You’ll be wearing my jersey at the games. End of story.” he lifts my hand, smirking when he sees I’m wearing the engagement ring. “That ring on my finger and my jersey on your back will make sure nobody gets the wrong idea.”
“What idea are you worried about them getting?’
“That they have any chance in hell with you.”
“Saving me for later, then?” I ask.
I can see the turmoil behind his eyes. We’ve been dancing a delicate dance, and I don’t think we know where to go from here. The physicality is off the charts. We can barely keep our hands to ourselves. When we’re not thinking about all the circumstances surrounding us, we get along like best friends. The past two years of getting to know him and even having his freaking baby make him feel like he should be my soulmate. And yet…
This is the part where he takes a step back. It always is. We flirt our way right up to the line. Right to the razor’s edge of commitment, and then one of us takes a step back.
But all he does is step forward and kiss me softly. It’s not a ravenous kind of kiss that leads to sex. It’s not a just-for-show kiss like we sometimes shared before we knew the secret about our fake engagement was out. It’s different.
It’s tender, careful, and slow. It’s like he’s savoring the perfect bite of the world’s most rare and delicious dessert. It’s a soft scoop of perfection on the tongue, dissolving with a sugary-sweet aftertaste that lingers like candy.
I bite my lip as he pulls back. “What was that?” I breathe.
His powerful hands are threaded behind the small of my back, keeping me pressed against him. “Sometimes, I’m just reminded that I can do that whenever I want.”
“Whenever you want?” I ask, running my fingertip down the hard crease between his pecs. “What if I was in the middle of something important?”
“Whenever I want,” he repeats with the shadow of a smile.
I smile, too, because I may not know exactly what’s going through his head, but I know one thing: that wasn’t him pulling back from closeness. That was him leaning into it. Surely, that must mean something has changed.