Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“Oh my god! You’re such a shit. You probably did sleep with her. What are you going to do if you have a nine-year-old child?”
He blinks several times before lifting his hand to my face and brushing a few stray hairs away from my eyes. I stiffen. It’s . . . he’s . . . well, he’s close. And it’s an intimate gesture. For a few seconds, I swear he’s going to kiss me.
We can’t kiss. We’re roommates. I know that’s in Will’s bylaws for this rental situation.
“I’d say it’s no fun because you’re too easy, but that would be a lie. It’s still pretty fucking fun.”
The need for revenge simmers deep in my belly because I know the answer to this question before I ask it. “You don’t know Betty, do you?”
He slowly shakes his head.
“And there’s no thirty-day clause.”
Fitz continues to shake his head.
“Watch out, Calvin.” I stab my finger into his chest. “Payback’s going to be a bitch for this one.”
A world of possibilities dances in his glimmering eyes, but I will wipe that grin off his face. I don’t know how or when, but it will be epic.
Chapter Six
“To my next midlife crisis.” Cee raises her shot glass with one hand and straightens her rhinestone birthday crown with her other while most everyone from the office celebrates at a bar by the river in downtown Missoula.
Two days earlier, Cee got her first tattoo, her Yorkie’s head on her forearm, to celebrate forty-five. Nobody knew it was her birthday until she showed off her ink. So Betty wasted no time arranging an outing—any excuse to escape her kids for a few more hours.
Now, we’re crammed around two high-top tables by the door, and every time someone comes in or out, the acrid stench of cigarette smoke and vaping aerosol makes its way to us, and a gust of cold air bites my exposed skin. The black strapless dress was a bad idea, but I wanted to wear something special for my first official night out with my new friends.
“Are your teeth chattering?” Betty asks, pausing her wineglass at her lips.
Said teeth chatter while I nod several times.
She chuckles. “Then put your coat on.”
“Then it looks like I’m leaving.”
Betty offers me an eye roll just as the door opens again.
“Be r-right b-back,” I say, grabbing my clutch and navigating toward the back of the bar as if I’m using the ladies’ room instead of searching for heat.
“Could you be more underdressed?”
I turn toward the bar, where Calvin Fitzgerald is perched on a stool with a mug of whatever beer’s on tap in his hand. He makes an agonizingly slow inspection of my dress while wetting his lips.
I had fewer goose bumps standing by the door.
“It’s the only dress I brought with me, and I didn’t have time to shop for a new one.” I hug myself, rubbing my bare arms.
“It’s, uh . . .” Fitz’s gaze lingers on my bare legs and red heels.
My heart races, and my fingernails scratch at my skin because I’m a fidgeter, and I think I like how he’s looking at me. And that’s wrong.
It’s against the rules.
I know he’s just toying with me, so I drop my arms and pull my shoulders back as if I’m ready for the paparazzi to take my picture. “See something you like?” I’m not letting him have the upper hand. I’m still planning my revenge.
What is it? I have no idea, but it’s still on course to be epic.
His gaze flicks to mine, and his eyes are a little bloodshot. A slow grin works its way up his face. “I don’t not like it.”
Oh my god!
I’m not drunk. I’ve had three sips of wine. He’s the one with impaired . . . everything. It’s a game. Unfortunately, I like this game a little too much.
I like when he looks at me as if I could be his dinner. That’s messed up. Right?
His gaze abandons mine again, and it takes me a few seconds to register his new point of focus. Points of focus.
My erect nipples.
Damn Missoula weather!
Crossing my arms, I clear the frog from my throat. “I gotta get back to my friends. Do you need a ride home?”
He finds my face again. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“Good.” I nod. “That’s good.”
Fitz sets his beer mug on the bar and steps down from the stool, putting us so close I can feel his body heat. As he reaches for my neck, I turn to stone—a stone with a racing pulse. Sliding my gold chain between his fingers, he inspects the round pendant with a sand dollar in the middle. It belonged to my mom. And I would tell him that if I could speak.
“I have to use the men’s room.” He releases my necklace and brushes past me.
Whoosh!
I expel a huge breath and regain my composure before rejoining the birthday party.