Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
His worry niggle transforming to a case of full-blown concern, Noah slid into his jeans and grabbed his shirt from the back of Yasmin’s desk chair, tugging it over his head as he thudded down the stairs. There was no sign of Yasmin in the living room or the dining room, but in the kitchen, there was a note in red marker stuck to the fridge with a green pepper magnet.
The writing was so large and angry-looking he was able to read it from across the room.
Dear Liar,
Yes, Noah. That means you.
I’m sure you thought it was hysterical to lead me on for the past few days while you pretended to be seriously considering my proposal. But now it’s clear that it was all a lie and that you are a liar, just like every other man I’ve ever dated.
I hope you enjoyed last night. It was both the first and the last time I’ll be stupid enough to sleep with you.
Please be gone before my mother shows up this afternoon to lock up the house. I’ve told her to bring Sampson for protection and to feel free to let him do his worst if you’re still around. She has agreed because she doesn’t like liars either.
Have a great life with your precious samples. Hope they keep you warm and happy in San Francisco.
Yasmin
“What the hell?” Noah ran a hand through his hair, baffled as to what could have possibly happened between last night and this morning to make her think that he was a liar.
The letter didn’t make any sense. He hadn’t lied about anything, and though he had always been leaning toward saying “no” to letting Yasmin have that sample, he had been seriously considering it. What in the world could have happened to convince her otherwise?
Turning to retrace his steps, he dashed back upstairs, grabbing his cell from the nightstand, intending to call Yasmin and go straight to the source. If he could just get her on the phone, he was sure he could clear this up.
But when he picked up his cell, he noticed he had a missed call and a message from the sperm bank.
Wavering for a moment, he decided to check the message first.
“Hello, Dr. O’Sullivan. Hope you’re well.” The congested-sounding voice was instantly recognizable. It was the head of the clinic, the same woman who had accidentally sold Yasmin a storage-only sample and started this insanity in the first place.
Though at this point, he was more inclined to think it was destiny, not insanity, that had brought Yasmin and him together, and he wasn’t about to let her go without a fight.
“Sorry to call so early,” the clinic director continued. “I just wanted you to know that everything has been taken care of ahead of schedule. All the samples have been shipped to the facility in San Francisco and a check for a full refund for the storage fee sent to your home address. Again, we’re so sorry for the inconvenience. Hopefully, knowing this is all behind you will make the rest of your trip to our great state of Texas that much more enjoyable.”
Noah was about to delete the message when the woman added—
“And my associate has already called the woman who was interested in your sample to inform her that she’ll have to look for another donor. So there’ll be no more stress for you from that direction, either.”
“Shit,” he cursed, closing his voice mail with a jab of his thumb. He dropped to the floor to look under the bed for his socks and shoes even as he scrolled to Yasmin’s contact number and hit call.
This was all another huge misunderstanding, courtesy of Screw-Ups-R-Us Sperm Bank. All he had to do was get Yasmin on the line, and he could explain this away in a second. Or at least, he hoped he could. Surely she would believe him if he swore to her that he hadn’t been the one to ask that the transfer date for the samples be moved up.
But when he called Yasmin, he was sent straight to voice mail. She must have turned her phone off, so Noah did the only logical thing to do at a time like this. He googled Yasmin’s parents’ number and called Li-Mei Wang North, owner of generations of prize-winning roosters and a woman who clearly didn’t enjoy hearing that her daughter’s emotions had been toyed with.
As soon as she found out who Noah was, she made a growling sound and warned, “You’d better be out of the house before I get over there, mister, or I’ll put my rooster on you. Maybe I’ll put him on you anyway. Thanks to you my daughter is leaving town again, just when her father and I were sure we had her back to stay.”
“What?” Noah said, his pulse speeding all over again. “Because of this? But it’s all just a big—”