Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
“Chorizo omelet with cheese and avocado slices, sourdough toast with jam, and bacon,” I proudly announce. “And coffee, of course, if you’re so inclined.”
“In fact, I am so inclined.”
“Good girl. Dig in.”
I watch as she takes the first bite of her food, and she grins around it. “Okay, this is pretty damn good. Really good, actually.”
“I told you. I’m a man of many skills.”
“Clearly.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes, and it somehow feels completely natural. Domestic. We've known each other less than twenty-four hours but sitting here, having a conversation over breakfast with her just feels… normal. Like this is the way things are supposed to be. It shouldn’t. I know it shouldn’t. But it just does.
Devon takes a drink of her coffee and sets the cup down. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t take it the wrong way, okay?”
I laugh. “I’ll do my best.”
“Well… I mean… I know pro athletes make boatloads of money, and I was just kind of curious why you’re living in a one-bedroom condo that’s kind of… small,” she says, eyes darting around my space. “I mean, it’s nice, don’t get me wrong. It’s a hell of a lot nicer than my dorm. But it’s kind of plain and doesn’t really seem like you.”
I raise an eyebrow, a smile curling the corners of my mouth. “And what does seem like me?”
“I don’t know. But I know it’s not this.” She shrugs. “All the furnishings and everything seem like they came with the place. And I don’t see much in the way of personal touches. I thought pro athletes liked to keep their memorabilia—jerseys, balls, trophies. Things like that.”
“First, we call them sweaters, not jerseys. Second, we play with pucks, not balls—”
She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”
“Nah. More like, potato, block of cheese.”
Her giggle is girlish and sweet. She bats her big eyes at me, and as my gaze locks onto hers, Devon’s cheeks turn bright red, and she quickly looks away. She chews her bottom lip, and I’m suddenly glad I’m sitting at the table because my cock stiffens as thoughts of bending her over the table and pounding away on her from behind flash through my head like an erotic highlight reel. I shift in my chair, doing my best to will those thoughts and my hard-on away.
“I’m serious. This place just doesn’t feel like you,” she says. “It seems kind of small for a big guy like you. And even though you don't strike me as the overly sentimental sort, it's just totally sterile. Impersonal.”
“I’m a little more sentimental than you think,” I tell her. “And you’re not wrong… I do have a room where I keep all my memorabilia.”
A goofy grin on her face, Devon pointedly looks around and turns back to me. “Are there secret rooms somewhere in this place?”
"No. This is the place I rent in season. It's a temporary place. My home—my real home—is back in Montana.”
My laptop is sitting on the table, so I pull it over and open it up. After logging in, I open up my pictures folder, turn it around, and push it over to her.
“That’s my actual home.”
Devon takes a bite of her omelet and chews as she scrolls through all my photos. The light from the laptop sparkles off her jade green eyes and her full lips curl into a smile as she “oohs” and “ahhs” while flipping through all the pictures.
It’s a faux-log cabin, twelve-room spread I had built about five years ago. My home sits in a valley near the Flathead National Forest. I’ve got horse stables, an indoor pool and jacuzzi, and an indoor basketball court on the grounds. It’s picturesque, remote, and entirely peaceful. It’s my place of Zen.
“You have horses,” she breathes.
“I wouldn’t be a proper Montanan if I didn’t,” I tell her. “I grew up around them. There’s nothing better than heading out on a long ride on horseback. It just feels like freedom.”
“I’ve never ridden a horse before.”
“That’s something we’re going to have to change then.”
“Yeah?”
I nod. “You’ll absolutely love it.”
Devon takes a sip of her coffee and sets her cup down as she continues scrolling through my pictures in silence. It’s clear she likes what she sees when she finally looks up.
“Yeah, this house seems more like you,” she says.
"I hope so. I had it custom-built with my own designs."
“You designed your own house?”
“Like I said, I’m a man of many talents.”
“So I’m learning,” she says with a giggle. “But it looks so remote. Like there’s nothing anywhere around you.”
“That's by design. It's where I go to relax and be alone. It's where I go when I want to escape this crazy, screwed-up world.”
She sighs wistfully. “That would be nice… being able to hit the eject button like that. God knows there are times I want to just get away from everything and everybody.”