Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 104288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
I chose a path, goddamn it, and I want it to work. I want to love school. I want to feel excited about a future in education. About any future at all where I have gainful employment—a real job, with real benefits like health insurance and a retirement plan.
Instead, I feel dead inside.
But those are dark thoughts for a Monday night, and I know my parents are exhausted from their day and don’t want to hear me moan and groan about the admittedly cushy position I’m in.
“All right, y’all, I’m gonna go.” I manage a tight smile. “I love you both.”
“Just let us know when we can visit,” Mom singsongs. “We always love an excuse to come to Bald Head.”
“Y’all come out anytime. I can’t wait for you to meet Katie. Mom, she’s hilarious. All day today she wore this koala bear costume that was just, really, the cutest thing ever.”
“Aw, she sounds like a doll. I’m glad y’all are getting along,” Dad says. “Stay in touch, you hear?”
“And get some rest so you can study and ace that test!” Mom adds.
When we hang up, I set my phone beside my laptop on the table. As much as I appreciate my parents’ advice, I’m more of a night owl than a morning person. I know if I procrastinate, I’m going to end up having stress dreams all night about failing this exam or not setting my alarm.
Nose to the grindstone it is.
Taking a deep breath, I grab my textbook and bring my laptop back to life. I am going to ace this thing.
If not for me, then for my parents.
I make it to ten thirty before I need toothpicks to keep my eyes open.
I haven’t made nearly enough progress, and I still have several more chapters I need to review before I can go to bed. Oh, I’m also supposed to finish that damn paper.
Caffeine. I need it, stat.
But a quick inventory of my kitchen yields a coffee maker but no coffee. Making a mental note to run to the Maritime Market grocery store tomorrow, I grab my phone and head for the house, not bothering to put on shoes.
The air outside is still warm and humid, the darkness so complete I can see every star when I glance at the slice of sky visible between the crofter and the house.
For a second my steps slow. It’s beautiful out here. What I wouldn’t give to be able to sit on the porch right now and stargaze.
But there’s work to do, and I want to be up early to help Katie get ready for her last week of camp. So I grab the spare key from its spot underneath a drain spout—Tuck texted me a picture of where he hides it—and scurry inside the house and up the stairs to the kitchen, careful to keep my footsteps quiet so I don’t wake anyone up.
The kitchen is silent. I’m grateful Tuck left on the light above the sink; it’s all the illumination I need to turn on his big fancy coffee machine. While the machine heats up, I set my phone on the counter and search for a mug. Going up on my tiptoes, I find one in the upper lefthand cabinet beside the dishwasher.
“Jesus fucking Christ, I thought I was being robbed.”
My heart plunges into my stomach at the growl behind me. I spin around, pulse screaming, to see a hulking mass standing in the shadows.
It’s Tuck.
Correction: it’s shirtless Tuck, holding up a golf club. The thick, chiseled mass of his torso is on full display. Tattoos and tufts of dark blond hair everywhere. He’s wearing a pair of black athletic shorts and literally nothing else.
No underwear. Even in the shadows, I can see the outline of his dick through the thin fabric.
Holy shit, he’s huge.
I don’t realize I’ve dropped the mug until it shatters at my feet. The sound rattles my already precarious nervous system.
“Oh, God, I’m—Tuck, I’m so sorry, I was just—I was falling asleep studying, and I couldn’t find any coffee in my kitchen, and, um . . .”
My gaze moves up, up, as Tuck lowers the golf club and steps into the light. He towers over me, a glowering mass of heaving chest and green eyes.
That smoky, evergreen scent rises off his bare skin. I can feel the heat radiating off him.
He’s so gorgeous up close it makes my stomach hurt.
His eyes flick to my chest. I remember a beat too late that I’m wearing my threadbare T-shirt and no bra.
Also, my nipples are hard. A fact Tuck very much seems to notice, because a muscle in his jaw tics and his nostrils flare when he says, “Don’t move.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I hope I didn’t wake up Katie.”
“She slept through a hurricane. She’s fine. Don’t move, or you’ll cut your feet.”