Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
I clenched my teeth together as I gave him a wave back, plastering a smile on my face.
I turned, reaching into the pocket behind the passenger seat and pulling out the manila folder I had stuffed inside.
“No more oops moments this week,” I said. “Read this.”
Rock opened the folder as I put the car in drive, taking off down the road.
“You wrote me a book?” Rock asked, leafing through the packet.
“This has all of the background information we need,” I said. “Where we met, each other’s favorite colors, all of that. I left blanks for the things I didn’t know, like your birthday. Let me get you a pen.”
I reached into the center console, rooting around with my right hand.
“Eyes on the road, my friend,” Rock said, pushing my hand away back to the wheel.
“My eyes were on the road,” I said.
“Do you know how many people I save from burning car wrecks every day?”
I gave him a quick glance. “Um, a lot, I assume?”
“Okay, that’s actually a rare thing for our station to respond to,” he admitted. “But you only have to see that sort of thing once to have respect for the road forever. Hands on the wheel, eyes on the road.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” I said.
He finally found the pen in the center console and for a few minutes he was silent as he looked through the packet.
The midmorning sun was abundant as we drove through the sloping hills toward the Golden Goose Inn. We had rented out the whole inn for the reunion, which meant we would have access to everything—the restaurant, the pools, the beautiful pathways all around the lush property. The Golden Goose was one of the nicest places in Amberfield, and until now, I’d only seen it from the road.
It was going to be strange to feel like a tourist in my own town. Hell, I felt like a tourist in my own life, right now.
When we were at the last red light before the inn, I glanced over at the packet in Rock’s lap. He hadn’t filled in any of the blanks, and instead had drawn what appeared to be a dragon at the top right corner of the first page.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Hm? Oh,” he said. “Just doodling.”
“You haven’t read through any of the packet?”
“Not yet,” he said.
“I am going to die this week,” I said. “I’m going to die of sheer embarrassment. I can already tell.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Rock said, closing the manila folder and looking out the window.
“You don’t even know the details,” I protested, reaching over and opening the folder back up on his lap.
“I know the most important bits. We met when you visited Kansas City for restaurant week. Your favorite color is emerald green. And you fucking love pineapple pizza.”
I bit back a smile, trying to maintain a serious face but failing.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said.
I pulled in a long breath as we pulled into the front of the inn. The big white and gold painted sign welcomed us, and my heart ended up lodged somewhere near my throat almost immediately.
“Why do I distinctly feel like it’s not going to be okay?”
He reached one hand over to my thigh, squeezing it. “I’ve got this, honey.”
My heart stopped. I looked up to find him smiling at me, dimples on display, as he took off his sunglasses with his other hand.
I hated that such a simple gesture felt so immediately comforting to me. It felt cheap. He didn’t really mean it, he was just playing the part of Boyfriend already. To Rock, squeezing a thigh was probably the least intimate thing on the planet.
But I was apparently touch-starved enough that to me, it felt like something so much more special than it had any right to be.
He removed his hand a couple moments later, his smile falling away, his dimples disappearing.
“Sorry, shit,” he said. “Was that too much?”
“I, uh,” I stuttered. I had abruptly realized that my cock was hardening under my pants, and in tandem I felt my cheeks getting hot again, too.
“I thought we’d need to do stuff like that this week, is all,” he said. “But not if you’re uncomfortable.”
“No, no,” I said, swallowing and shifting in my seat. “It didn’t bother me. Surprised me, I guess. I know we’re going to have to do stuff like that.”
“All that coupley kinda stuff, right?” he asked softly.
“Right. Of course.”
My hard-on was finally starting to ease up, but I needed a drink in me, fast. Preferably the most alcoholic one available in the small Golden Goose bar.
Cameron was sitting on one of the big sofas in the lobby of the inn when we got there. It only took a moment for my heart to break a little after seeing him.
My brother was usually bright as sunshine, ready to handle anything that came his way. People had always said that if I was an old soul, he was a young one—only four years younger than me, but so different in so many ways. Sometimes I thought it was only because he’d never developed grey hair like me, but in reality, I agreed with everyone else. If I was like the silvery moon, he was like the sun.