Total pages in book: 198
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
Rhodes blinked. “That makes sense, but . . . you still get the time off anyway, and why can’t you just make the holiday about being thankful for the blessings that you have? The people that you have?”
I smiled. “That sounds pretty nice.”
“You’ll come then?”
“If you want me to.”
His mouth twisted into that not-officially-a-smile smile, and his voice was gruff. “Get ready to leave by noon.”
“You’re using your bossy voice again.”
He sighed and looked at the ceiling, his tone lightening. “Please come over for Thanksgiving?”
I brightened up. “Are you positive?”
That got him to dip his face a little, his breath touching my lips, his eyebrows up. My heart swelled within my chest. “Even if it didn’t make you smile like that, I’m positive.”
I didn’t want to think that I was nervous, but . . . I was nervous the next day.
Just a little bit.
I’d stuck my hands between my thighs to keep from rubbing them against the leggings I’d pulled on under my dress to wipe off the sweat that kept accumulating on them.
“Why are you squirming so much?” Rhodes asked from his spot behind the steering wheel as he navigated us down the highway, closer and closer to Amos’s aunt’s house. She lived two hours away. I wasn’t proud to admit that we’d had to stop for me to pee twice.
“I’m nervous,” I admitted. I’d spent way too long doing my makeup earlier, putting on bronzer and brow gel for the first time in months. I’d even ironed my dress. Rhodes had smiled at me when I’d walked into his house and asked if I could use his iron, but he hadn’t made a comment as he stood by me while I did my dress . . . and then he redid it because he was better at ironing than I was.
A lot better.
And honestly, the image of him ironing my clothes was going to be burned into my brain for the rest of my life. Watching him . . . this weird little tingle had built up in my chest. I was going to pick that apart later. In private.
“What do you have to be nervous about?” he asked, like he thought I was nuts.
“I’m meeting Amos’s mom! Your best friend! I don’t know, I’m just nervous. What if they don’t like me?”
His nostrils flared a little, eyes still glued to the road. “How often do you meet people who don’t like you?”
“Not that often, but it happens.” I held my breath. “You didn’t like me that much when we first met.”
That got him to glance at me. “I thought we talked about this already? I didn’t like what Amos had done, and I took it out on you.” He cleared his throat. “And the other thing.” Oh, about me reminding him of his mom. We hadn’t brought her up anymore, and I had a feeling it would be a long time before we did again.
I glanced out the window. “That too, but you still didn’t want to like me.”
“Fine. I didn’t,” he agreed, glancing at me real quick with not a smile but just about the most fond expression I could ever have dreamed of on his features. “But I lost that battle.”
The tingling in my chest was back, and I braved a smile at him.
The fond expression was still there, trying its best to short circuit my brain and heart.
I wiped my hands again, and I gulped. “His mom is just so accomplished, and so is his other dad, and I’m just over here . . . not knowing what I want to do with my life at thirty-three.”
He slid me a look that was way too close to the rabid raccoon one. “What? You think they’re better than you because they’re doctors?”
I scoffed. “No!”
His mouth twitched just a little bit. “Sure sounds like it, angel.”
“No, I like working with Clara. I like working at the shop. But I keep thinking that I’m . . . I don’t know, that I should try to do something more? But I don’t want to, and I don’t even know what I would want to do. I know it’s not a competition, and I’m sure I’m overthinking things because my ex’s mom scarred me. And like I said, I really do like working there a lot more than I would have ever imagined. I can actually help most people out now without having to bother Clara. Can you believe it?”
He nodded, his mouth twitching even more. “I can believe it.” Then he peeked at me. “Are you happy?” Rhodes asked seriously.
I didn’t have to think about it. “Happier than I’ve been . . . ever, honestly.”
The lines across his forehead were back. “You mean that?”
“Yeah. I don’t remember the last time I got mad over anything that wasn’t a customer being annoying, and even then, I forget about it five minutes later. I don’t remember the last time I felt . . . small. Or bad. Everyone is so nice. Some people ask for me now. That matters to me so much, you have no idea.”