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)
Elizabeth Finch was one of the most uptight, annoying, bossy, rude women he’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. She made no secret of the fact that she didn’t like him, and that suited him fine because he couldn’t think of anyone on the planet he disliked more than her.
Gideon considered himself an easygoing guy, he enjoyed most people and they liked him. He strove to be the best man he could be, helpful to others, kind to animals, generous to those in need, and patient to a fault.
Usually.
But Elizabeth Finch—with her many opinions, her absolute belief that she was always right, and her inability to see the other side of any argument—represented everything he despised in people.
She brought to mind that most reviled of cartoon characters, Scrappy Doo—tiny, but always ready to wade into any fight with a can-do attitude that could easily land her in trouble. Whether they traded casual insults or got into a full-on argument about whatever the fuck, Gideon managed to (barely) hold his irritation in check by picturing himself—long arm extended and palm on her head—keeping her at bay while she swung at him in futile rage, shouting, “Lemme at him! Lemme at him!”
Last night all that fire and pluck had been gone. Even before he had found her crying in a secluded corner of Cam and Cat’s patio, he’d known that something wasn’t right. He’d known for a while.
Yet despite his concern, his first instinct had been to retreat, then she had looked up and met his eyes and his feet had turned to lead.
Those lovely moss green eyes, so reminiscent of a wet forest floor, had been wide and vulnerable without the usual shield of her glasses. She’d looked helpless and unhappy and Gideon, always a sucker for a pair of sad eyes, had stepped toward her instead of away.
That mistake had been compounded by many more as the evening wore on. She wouldn’t tell him what was wrong, yet had seemed to appreciate the distraction he offered. She had laughed—for the first time in the two years they’d known each other—at his dumb jokes. They’d remained out on the chilly patio for ages, talking about nonsensical things.
It had been nice to just talk…For once there’d been no abrasiveness, no need to one-up each other. Just an odd but amicable conversation about cooking shows. They shared a mutual love of any reality show that featured the word “chef” in the title.
Who knew?
The discussion had progressed to cooking. Even though Gideon wasn’t a great cook, he enjoyed watching others create delicious meals.
Beth, of course, fancied herself something of an amateur chef. That didn’t surprise him at all. If there was one thing Gideon knew about Ms. Elizabeth Finch, it was that she thought she was good at everything. Hand her a scalpel and she’d likely consider herself qualified enough to remove some sucker’s appendix.
Such a know-it-all.
He was glaring at the bathroom door, his irritation rising again. Why the hell hadn’t he run in the opposite direction last night? What was supposed to happen now?
More importantly, why the fuck had he slept with her?
There hadn’t been the slightest spark of attraction between them before last night. Not with the animosity and dislike seething between them. It wasn’t one of those love-to-hate-you things either. They genuinely couldn’t stand each other. To the extent that Cat and Cam tried to schedule events around their mutual animosity. Lizzy one evening and Gideon the next. It wasn’t always easy—they had to tolerate each other’s company and play nice for big events like birthdays, anniversaries, and other milestone celebrations.
He groaned again as he continued to contemplate the contrary female currently hiding out in his bathroom.
She was pretty if one went for that wholesome girl-next-door thing—Gideon did not—with wavy golden-brown shoulder-length hair, lovely eyes, and a pouty, soft pink mouth that was usually flattened into a straight, disapproving line whenever he was around. A shame really because it was a beautiful mouth. Last night, the sight of those plump lips suckling away at his hard cock had nearly fucking killed him. Even now the memory made him hard as a post.
He groaned into his hands, willing his errant cock back under control. The damned thing had gotten him into enough shit as it was.
Last night had been a one and done.
No point in compounding the situation with some out of nowhere attraction that would disrupt the fragile ecosystem of their already dysfunctional non-relationship.
Who the hell was he fooling with that, anyway? Fucking her had already destroyed that ecosystem entirely.
Flashes of last night kept spinning through his mind, an erotic highlights reel that was in no way helping his hard-on subside.
He fisted his throbbing cock in frustration, hoping his tight grip could in some way alleviate the pain and get the damned erection under control. Maybe he had some form of priapism or something because this was so not normal for him.