Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
His eyebrows shoot up as I throw the words he spoke earlier back in his face with a soft smile on my face.
“Is that so?” His question is slow and deliberate, with a silent suggestion to it that makes me tingle a little in my girly parts.
“Yup.”
Weston eyes me silently with no expression on his face, his stare focusing on my lips a heartbeat too long before he says, “Okay, Molly, then I guess I have no choice but to just lie back for a bit and take a short nap until this rain passes.” He feigns a yawn. “Took a real pounding in practice today and I. Am. Beat.” He reaches for the side lever to recline the seat and lies back, crossing those beautiful arms across his broad chest, the tattoo on his right arm a stark contrast to the white of his shirt. “Want to rub my back? I can turn over…”
Seriously?
Is this a joke?
Because even though not five minutes ago I was pissed off at him, all I can think about now is getting my hands on him—and he’s choosing to take a nap.
I sit ramrod straight in the driver’s seat, staring at his strong arms, not really knowing what to do.
CHAPTER 21
WESTON
“I don’t even want to know what’s going through that thick skull of yours.”
– Brian Mcgrath
I have to bite my lip so the grin doesn’t escape. I can literally feel Molly watching me from her side of the car, even though my eyes are closed. I just know she’s sitting there, overanalyzing the situation, when really all I want to do is get her in my lap. Feel her under my palms. Kiss her neck.
It’s that plain and simple.
I hear her shift beside me, and I lazily let my eyelids creep open. “Stop staring at me,” I drone, knowing damn well it’s going to spook her. She says nothing, but Molly’s eyes get real wide because I caught her red-handed, and her head whips around to look back out the front window. Presented with her profile, I’m given a side view of that perky little bow in her hair, and I smile despite myself.
I decide to put her out of her misery. “It’s not that I wouldn’t want to take you to Fall Formal, Molly. It’s that I can’t.”
She turns to face me, confusion marring her brow. “It’s fine, Weston. You don’t have to explain yourself. I mean, it’s not like I’m your…” Her voice trails off as I tuck my arms behind my head. Her green eyes linger on my bare upper arms, then down over my armpits, and finally down my torso. Her perusal is turning me on and let’s face it, it’s taking every ounce of willpower I possess to remain still and not just reach over and grab her.
Lord knows I want to.
I sit up and reach to pull the seat back to a sitting position.
The silence hangs over her unfinished sentence as those last few words sink in. I mean, it’s not like I’m your…girlfriend. She was obviously about to say it, and suddenly, this is a moment of clarity for me. That unspoken word has got my mind working.
I let it marinate inside my brain.
“My Uncle Leo is getting married in Chicago at Millennium Park that day, and I’m an usher.” A little O forms on Molly’s mouth as the words sink in, followed by a slow grin that settles on her lips. Good, I’ve managed to surprise her. “So obviously I can’t go to Fall Formal.” By the way, thanks, Uncle Leo, because I wouldn’t have gone to the dance anyway, but Molly doesn’t need to know that.
CHAPTER 22
MOLLY
“Seriously, one of the top five reasons to own a car is so you can make out in it. I’m pretty sure I read that somewhere.”
– Jenna
That’s it—he’s going to a wedding. He’s not repulsed by the thought of taking me out in public, and he’s not ashamed to be seen with me at a school function. I let this new information process inside my brain, and my insides fill with warmth again. All of the rejection and embarrassment I felt a few minutes earlier have fled as fast as they arrived, and I survey Weston with a new appreciation.
I feel…overjoyed.
Ecstatic.
Giddy.
Suddenly, he’s all the more attractive, and who’d have thought that could even be possible?
The silence—well, technically it’s not at all silent, because the noise from the rain continues to fill the cab of my Jeep with the sound of tiny, banging drums—is too much for me, so I reach forward and take a pack of gum out of the cup holder, offering one to Weston. “Would you like a piece?”
“Sure. Actually, can I have two? One can never be too fresh.”
“Of course.” I take two sticks out and unwrap them, setting them in his open palm. Without even meaning to, I let my fingers linger before taking my hand away.