Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Me.
He wants me.
And I want him.
All of him.
The feel of his hand in mine. The press of his body. And those lips. Jesus.
I am about to admit something that will stay between us, but I opened one of my vibrators that night. I came to thoughts of him—how he smiled, how he walked me back to my car, barefoot, since he didn’t want me to have to wait for him to get his shoes. He walked beside me, not touching me, not pushing me for more. When we got to my car, he opened the door once I unlocked it and leaned on it, his eyes clashing with mine. I wanted him to kiss me again, but I knew he wouldn’t.
I’d have to ask him to.
With his wide grin, dimples on display, he said, “So, I’ll kill Dillon, and you’ll turn Poncy in?”
Even in my feelings and not having an inkling of joy, a smile moved over my lips. “Please don’t even waste your time. He isn’t worth it.”
Dawson didn’t seem convinced, but his smile didn’t falter. “But you’ll turn her in?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t want to make waves.”
I was met with silence, and when I looked up at him, his eyes were darting between mine. “Make the waves, Ambrosia.” My lip trembled a bit as he held my gaze. “She has no right to say those things, and you have the ability to make sure she thinks twice about doing it again.”
I hadn’t planned to, but I filed a complaint against Dr. Poncy. Dawson was right, and the more I thought about it, the more I didn’t want anyone else ever to feel as small as she made me feel. I’m not saying she won’t be a hateful bitch to someone else, but maybe she’ll remember what happened when she does.
Doubtful, but I’m hopeful.
I listen to the rough tenor of Evan Adler’s voice, but I’m not really listening. I’ll have to redo this edit, but I can’t stop thinking about the fact that Dawson was there for me when he didn’t have to be. I also can’t ignore the warmth that gathers below my sternum, knowing he did it with no expectation of getting anything from me. I press hard on the stop button and groan before rewinding it back about three minutes. I really need to get this done, and it’s not helpful to be daydreaming about how dreamy Dawson Sinclair is.
Especially when I’ve done that all week.
I exhale, forcing myself to focus on what Evan is saying as pride seeps out of my pores. With every email I get back from the couples I contacted to come on my show, I think it can’t top the last, but honestly, I don’t know how I’ll ever top Evan and Callie Adler. I don’t know if Shea and Elli Adler just raised their kids to be so open with their love, but God, the way Evan looked at Callie. How he shared about falling in love with her and feeling saved when he decided to walk away from the NHL because he knew she would have his back, no matter what?
Yeah, how can I top that?
I hit pause when I see my phone light up, and even before I have it in my hand, I can see it’s a Venmo deposit.
DawsonSinclair60: $100 for the rights to my wallpaper.
I roll my eyes at the comment.
AmbrosiaMercer1: Stop sending me money. It’s weird.
DawsonSinclair60: But I don’t own the rights to this photo. You said so yourself.
AmbrosiaMercer1: It’s fine. I give you permission to use it.
DawsolnSinclair60: Does this mean you’ll go out with me?
I snort, rolling my eyes again, but before I can write him back, my phone rings with an incoming call.
From Jayden Sinclair.
My heart kicks up, and my belly does a little clench as I answer it quickly. “Hello?”
“Ro, how are you?”
“Well, and you?
“Good, good. Listen, I know we said we were meeting at nine on Saturday, but do you think we can do later?”
I bring in my brows. “Later? Don’t the Bullies play football on Saturday?”
“Not this week,” he says on a sigh. “But Dawson won’t be playing for a couple games.”
Now my heart is racing with worry about Dawson.
I try to keep my voice even. “Oh? Is he okay?”
“Totally fine,” he says, like it’s acceptable for him to miss a game. I want him to go on, but he doesn’t. “Since it’s a bye week, we figured we’d have breakfast with the boys. My future son-in-law will be home this weekend too, so we’ll have all three for the day. Then Baylor and I would come to record the show with you. How’s four?”
My mind is going crazy, and I need to know why Dawson won’t be playing. “Sure, that’s great for me.”
“Awesome, I’ll—”
“Jayden, I know this is none of my business, but what did you mean when you said that Dawson would be sitting?”