Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
He had asked her what was wrong. Several times. She’d had plenty of opportunities to tell him. He would have eased back. Been less of a prick to her…probably. And yes, her vulnerability had also resulted in the walls temporarily dropping between them but he couldn’t bring himself to regret what had happened as a result.
He felt no guilt about the sex. It had been fantastic. He did regret the fact that it would never—could never—happen again. She wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t want it. It complicated matters. He preferred the existing dynamic between them. The understanding that they disliked each other and would always dislike each other.
A simple, elegant, good old-fashioned enmity.
It worked for them.
She was winding down in the kitchen. Soon, she would curl up on the comfy couch with a book. Or maybe she’d watch TV, and he’d sit out here a little longer, watching as she dozed off.
He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t his fault that he could see right into her house. He had every right to sit out on his porch and enjoy the evening air. It was part of his routine. And yes, maybe being able to see her, while she had no idea that he was watching, was a little uhm creepy?
Stalkery?
No. None of those things really. It was unfortunate, that’s what it was. Merely a little unfortunate. He hadn’t gone looking for this. The first time he’d sat out here to unwind after a long day, Gideon had been shocked to discover exactly how much of her home he could see. She was intruding on his privacy, frankly. Gideon didn’t enjoy having her right in his face while he was trying to relax with a well-deserved drink in the evenings. He didn’t like knowing every detail of her evening routine. He didn’t like how he used to wonder why she talked to herself…only to learn that it was because she’d had a bird that had been out of his sightline. He liked it even less that she no longer talked and that she looked lonely and sad some evenings.
None of your fucking business, Hawthorne.
She settled onto her comfortable looking couch with a tall glass of something and curled her legs under her behind as she reached for the remote control. She dimmed the lights slightly and snuggled down. She looked so comfortable; Gideon longed to join her. But he squelched that ridiculous longing the second it manifested.
His own evening would follow a similar pattern. He stayed home more often these days. His wild partying days a thing of the past thanks to his tight budget…well, that and he’d lost his taste for it. With his twenties behind him, the party scene no longer appealed to him as much as it used to. If Cam and Cat weren’t having a get-together, Gideon was content to stay at home. Sometimes he would read, but more often he’d try to get some work done. He was currently illustrating a graphic novel. A collaboration with a writer he’d met on a free writing platform. The novel had garnered quite a following.
Sadly, even though it was enjoyable, gratifying work, it paid nothing. It was an indulgence. Something he did solely for pleasure. A bit of fun that helped him blow off steam.
He enjoyed the crazy post-apocalyptic world Calla—the writer—had created. It allowed Gideon’s imagination to run wild. Exactly what he needed after hours of more rigid design work.
Daylight was for his product and marketing illustrations. Freelance stuff that now—barely—paid the bills.
And his father had always said his art would amount to nothing.
“Well look at me now, Dad,” he murmured into the breeze, lifting his bottle in sarcastic salute. “Living the high life.”
Freelancing to get the bills paid, living in his friend’s house, and paying well below the standard rental rate. He’d been tempted, so tempted to admit failure and accept that job his father had been pushing for so long. Even more tempted to use the inheritance that he was determined not to touch. He refused to spend money he hadn’t earned. His siblings thought he was being ridiculous and needlessly prideful.
But Gideon had a point to prove. A shame he was failing so dismally at proving it.
Lizzy never lasted longer than forty minutes. His lips kicked up as he watched her head begin to droop. Tonight, it had only been ten minutes since she’d sat down and she was already fading.
“Sweet dreams, Lizzy-bit,” he muttered, then shifted his shoulders, uncomfortable with the amount of affection he could hear in his voice.
He drained his beer and rolled his head in a futile attempt to work the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. Time to get to work.
Another woman to add to Gideon’s ever-growing stable of mystery ladies.
This one appeared to be in her early fifties, stylish, and beautiful, with pale blonde hair, and a youthfully slender figure. She’d been in the house with him for nearly three hours. A little long for a personal training session. So that theory was sinking fast.