Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Hey, baby.” A soft smile forms on his lips as we stare at each other.
“Hey.” I shift from one foot to the other, and he laughs.
“Come here, Hanna.” He opens his arms, and I close the distance between us and fall into his embrace. My entire being deflates, like it’s taken its first real breath in days when his arms wrap around me, and any nervousness or unease I felt washes away in an instant.
“You’re here.” I tip my head back, and his mouth touches mine for a soft, brief kiss that is so familiar but still sends tingles of excitement through my system.
“I am.” His fingers cup the back of my head, tangling in my hair as his eyes roam over my face. “Still so fucking pretty.” His lips meet mine one more time, and I’m not sure if it’s the throwaway comment or the kiss that makes my insides warm.
“Is that all you brought?” I look at his bag as he lets me go and takes my hand, tangling his fingers with mine.
“I don’t need much.”
“Apparently.” I begin to lead him through the station and stop outside the grocery store inside. “I have the basics at home. Is there anything you want to pick up for tonight or for breakfast in the morning?”
“Did you eat?”
“Not yet. I figured we could do takeaway this evening.”
“Then I’m good for now.” His hand squeezes mine, and we start to head up the stairs that lead to the main road.
“Have you been to London?” I ask as we wait for the light to turn green so we can cross the busy street.
“A few times, but I’ve always stayed near The Eye.”
“Such a tourist,” I joke as we maneuver around a huge crowd of people who have gathered outside a corner pub for an after-work beer.
“You can show me what I’ve been missing out on by not staying with the regular folks.”
“Traffic.” I glance up at him. “Really, that’s the only difference between here and there is all the traffic around the main tourist spots. But if you go about three blocks over, you’ll get that same experience. I love this city, but even going a couple of miles will take you about forty-five minutes by car, which sucks when the trains are down or running on weird schedules.”
“Do you drive here?”
“No, I have rented a car to go out of the city a couple of times, but it’s not worth it in my opinion to own a car here, when you have the tube and the buses,” I say, pulling my keys out of my pocket when we reach my building. Which isn’t actually a building—it’s an old house that is attached to dozens of other old houses. Letting us in the main door, I hold open the glass doors, and once inside, we head past the stairs for the upper floors.
“My landlord, Mrs. Lewis, lives upstairs. She’s awesome. She also has an apartment on the third floor that she rents out as a short-term rental.” I use the three keys to open my door and let us in, kicking off my slides. As usual, Mizzy is there to greet me from her perch on the side table, and as usual, she takes one look at me and dismisses me completely. Then she looks at Walker and blinks before she stands, stretching her front paws out while waving her tail like she’s preening for him.
“You have a cat?” He runs his fingers between her ears, then down her back, and she bends into his touch while I stare at her in disbelief.
I look up at him. “I was going to tell you that she doesn’t like anyone, including me, but apparently that would have been a lie.” I frown when she starts to purr. I never hear her purr. “Normally, she waits here when I leave, but I’ve convinced myself that it’s not out of concern for me. She just wants to make sure I make it back so someone will be around to feed her.”
“She’s cute.” He rubs between her ears once more, and she hops down and circles his feet before looking up at me and flipping her tail, then wanders off.
“Why do I feel like she just threw down some kind of weird challenge?”
“Looked that way.”
“Right?” I shake my head and lead him through the doorway on the left at the end of the hall. “This is the kitchen and living room. This place was furnished when I rented it, so none of this is mine.” I wave my hand out to encompass a very formal-looking gray couch with its fancy gold pillows, and two white, round swivel chairs, that all sit around a glass coffee table, with a TV across from them. There’s a fireplace on the wall between the living room and kitchen, where there is a glass dining table with seating for eight, a crystal chandelier over its center, then leather-back bar stools at the high island in the kitchen.