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)
“You’re an avid reader,” he continued. “And you’ll often fall asleep on the couch with a book in hand. You never last long. You’ll read for forty minutes or so before your head starts drooping. Same with the TV…am I freaking you out?” This last when she unconsciously made high-pitched little sounds of embarrassment.
“Oh my God, did you see me pick my nose? Scratch my butt? This is all so cringe.”
“Who doesn’t pick their noses or scratch their arses in the privacy of their own homes?”
“Privacy,” she repeated with a roll of her eyes and grimaced.
“It’s indefensible, I know that. Unforgivable.”
“Well…” She shifted uncomfortably the chair, sending it rocking wildly back and forth for a couple of seconds.
Oopsie.
She put her foot down to steady the motion.
“Not quite unforgivable,” she said, and his head tilted as he ran an assessing gaze over her face.
She avoided his eyes and instead focused on taking a sip of the cold beer. Ugh, she didn’t like beer much, but it would do.
“You don’t like beer,” he suddenly said, and her gaze leaped to his face.
“How do you know that?” she asked, before her gaze darted across the street to her house again. That wasn’t the type of information one picked up from just spying on someone through their window every night.
“You always refuse any offer of beer when we’re in company. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it’s not your preferred drink.”
“I don’t go out of my way to drink it, but I don’t mind it.”
“So why ask me for one now?” He sounded baffled.
“You clearly felt—justifiably—guilty and terrible about your months and months and months of spying on me when I was at my most unguarded.”
He scrubbed a palm over his face and she heard a muffled fuuuuuck behind his hand as he drew it over his mouth. She hid her grin at his reaction.
“I wanted to help you feel less uncomfortable about being caught,” she confessed, keeping her voice nonchalant and her expression neutral.
He still had his hand over his mouth and his narrowed eyes were intently searching her expression.
“What aren’t you telling me?” he suddenly asked.
“Nothing,” she said, taking another reluctant sip of the bitter beer.
“Jesus wept,” he muttered. He leaped to his feet and grabbed the bottle from her.
“Hey. I was drinking that.”
“You were grudge drinking it. It’s a waste of good beer.” He went back inside and she heard him rattling around in the kitchen before returning to the porch moments later with a large glass of red wine in hand.
“Ooh,” she crooned when she saw the glass. “Come to mama, you gorgeous thing!”
A quick grin flitted across his mouth at her words.
“It’s a merlot, your favorite red.”
“I’m not even going to ask how you know that,” she said with a roll of her eyes as she cupped the bowl of the glass in both hands. He knew a lot more about her than she’d ever realized. He was either a lot more observant than she’d known, or he’d been watching her closely for a very long time. And not just through her living room window.
She found that she didn’t mind that as much as she probably would have just eight weeks ago. Because she’d been watching him closely as well, for much longer than she cared to admit. She’d told herself it was because she needed to make sure he wasn’t up to no good. But really, it was just because she enjoyed looking at him.
“So why are you being so cool about this?”
“About what?” she hedged, taking a contented sip from her glass.
“Beth.”
“I have my reasons. So what can I expect from this engagement party? When is it exactly?”
He gave her a hard stare before shaking his head.
“In two-and-a-half weeks’ time.”
“Dress code?”
“Fucked if I know. Probably black-tie.”
“I’ll need to know for sure. I may have to buy something suitable.”
“You don’t have to do that, man.”
“I’m not showing up at some black-tie posh event in my go-to little black dress cocktail number. It’s definitely seen one too many washes.”
“I’ll buy you a dress if you need one,” he offered generously, and she laughed outright at that.
“The type of dress I’ll probably need is way out of your budget,” she said with a breezy wave of her hand.
“You’re the one who said I should start using my inheritance. Can’t think of a better way to start dipping into it.”
“While I do believe that you should start using that money, I can buy my own dress, thank you. But find out from your sister, please. I don’t want to show up in a cocktail dress at a ballgown occasion.”
“And I, uhm, forgot to mention… it’s a weekend event.”
“You just forgot to mention that pertinent fact before securing my yes?” She eyed him dubiously over the rim of her glass and he had the grace to look guilty as hell.