Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Lucky wasn’t screwing around. His pancakes were the shit. So much so, I had two servings. My first bite reminded me how hungry I was, how ravenous. It’d been a long time since I’d had any kind of appetite for anything but heroin, but there it was. For chocolate chip pancakes made for me by a friggin’ biker.
“Who taught you how to cook like this?” I asked through a full mouth. A lady I was not.
He had been watching me, leaning against the counter with a small grin on his face. The grin dampened slightly. “My mom,” he said flatly.
I barely noticed it. “Thank her for me.”
Then I went back to my breakfast, not thinking twice on his reaction.
After breakfast he declared he was going surfing.
“I’ve got an extra board. Want to join me?” he asked after I’d recovered from seeing him shirtless.
No, I didn’t recover exactly, just found a way to act like I did. Hours later, I was still recovering from his fricking eight-pack, his caramel skin mingled with tattoos and art.
I’d managed to snap my head up and not lick the V cut out of marble and hugely visible in his low-slung board shirts. “Are you joking?”
He grinned. “Always.”
I shook my head, mostly to get images of me pressed against that naked torso out of my mind.
“There are sun loungers, and a shit ton of books in the living room. Saw you had an overflowing bookshelf at your old apartment. You read?”
I nodded. Before I started screwing up my brain and ability to concentrate, I’d loved to read. Reading was a healthier form of escapism than drugs. If only I’d stuck to that.
“Awesome. Well, read or fantasize over my godlike body. I won’t be long.” He leaned in and kissed the top of my head. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fantasizing over yours too.” On that note he left the kitchen and walked outside, leaving me blinking like an idiot in his wake.
I’d done as he said, fantasizing about his body and reading. Spent the entire day doing both, in fact. I didn’t have a swimsuit to lie out in, but considering I was pale and got scorched in the sun, that was probably a good thing. I slathered on the SPF and hid from the rays under the umbrella while I immersed myself in a book from the decent collection Lucky had. I didn’t imagine he read Virginia Wolfe, which had me curious about who lived here. It was obvious a female had, as the woman’s touches were hard to miss. The fairy lights strung above the vintage patchwork sofa. The scented candles on the coffee table, which was also littered with motorcycle magazines. Because I was too wrapped up in myself, I hadn’t asked about this place.
I didn’t get the chance to ask Lucky, since he left me alone with my book the entire day, which surprised me. I was sure he’d be like a Jack Russell puppy, constantly biting at my ankles, demanding attention. He wasn’t. He only approached me to deposit snacks—which he did on a regular basis, muttering about how I needed fattening up—and lunch. He seemed to sense I needed the ocean and escape, and a little slice of peace, even if it was tinged with the chaos inside my head.
He’d yanked the book from me when the sun started to kiss the horizon.
“All right, I don’t want your eyes going square,” he’d declared.
I squinted at him. “That’s from the TV.”
He shrugged. “Same thing. Dinner time.”
“I just had lunch.”
“Four hours ago,” he corrected. “Now up or I will force feed you. I can’t promise you’ll enjoy it, but I will.”
So I did as I was told, without sarcasm or protesting or anything. I surprised even myself. The conversation was light and easy the entire dinner, the elephant in the room still sitting there. Then it was Scrabble time. Which led me to now.
“Are we ever going to talk about it?” I asked in exasperation, looking up from the board.
“The fact that you would starve if you ever had to make a living playing word games and I am the king of such games?” Lucky teased, his eyes bright.
I eyed him levelly. “No, the fact that I’m recovering from a heroin addiction, almost killed myself with an overdose, and then you spirited me away here the moment you found out, despite the fact we’re….” I trailed off, looking for the words to describe what we were. I swallowed; I knew what we weren’t, at least. “Nothing. Despite the fact we’re nothing.”
All teasing glint left his face and his jaw went hard. “We’re far from nothing, Becky. You know that.”
I didn’t lower my gaze, even though his stare was getting downright scary. I forgot, what with his easy attitude and stupid jokes, that underneath was the face of something much more sinister.