Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
"The elevator is right over there," I instruct when I approach and she doesn't budge.
I follow close behind her, the bag of tacos in hand to the elevator, and she doesn't speak until we get on.
"We aren't consummating this marriage," she snaps, as if we're in the middle of an argument and I missed the first half.
"Okay."
"We have to get an annulment as quickly as possible," she continues.
"Is that the only reason we can't hook up?"
She sneers at me, and I swear she looks just like I imagine a wet, angry cat would look.
"Don't flatter yourself," she mutters.
I think I like this feisty side of her. It's much better than the crying one, that's for sure.
I open the door with the provided keycard and hold it open for her.
She doesn't hesitate to leave me standing alone in the small living room area as she heads into the bedroom.
A couple of seconds later, I hear her on the phone, and I can tell she's calling into work.
The woman has been practically held prisoner and she's worried about her job. I like the work ethic but she really needs to focus on priorities right now.
By the time she comes back into the room, I have the tacos split evenly on the small dining table.
Wordlessly, she takes a seat across from me and works on opening the first wrapper.
I wait until she has eaten the first taco, praying it takes the edge off of her hangry state before speaking.
"I need you to tell me everything you know about that place."
"I don't have any clean clothes, none of my personal things. This hotel was a bad idea."
"We can get you new things."
"There's no sense in getting new things when I have perfectly fine things at my house."
"Are you always this argumentative or are you simply trying to avoid the other conversation?"
"The other conversation makes me look really stupid."
"I'm sure you had a good plan," I cajole. "Let's talk it through.
She pulls in a deep breath and then tells me how the simplest of desires somehow turned into a situation of her putting her life in jeopardy.
Chapter 12
Kaylee
I don't know what I expected waking up in a hotel with a stranger who is technically my husband to be like, but it sure as hell wasn't to the scent of sugar, bacon, and coffee and the sounds of a daytime game show.
I walk into the living area, feeling like a bridge troll after having to put this ridiculous dress back on after my shower last night, to find Ellis sitting in front of the television with a plate piled high of food in nothing but a pair of blue jeans.
"Are you serious?" I mutter.
He looks away from the television at me, and I swear I can feel the sweep of his eyes on my legs.
"Did you sleep on the couch?"
"Where else would I sleep?"
I can hear the suggestion in his voice.
"You look... rested."
"How would you expect me to look?" he asks.
I wave my hand up and down to indicate myself, but his smile only grows as his eyes travel the length of me.
"You look fabulous," he says, and I can't seem to pinpoint the hint of humor in his tone, but I know it has to be there somewhere.
"Seriously?"
He shrugs. "Happy wife, happy life. Isn't that how the saying goes?"
I scoff, tugging at the hem of this stupid, itchy dress. "I need clothes."
He angles his fork, part of a pancake still clinging to it, toward a bag near the bedroom door.
"I grabbed some stuff from the gift shop."
"Thank you," I tell him.
"I ordered a bunch of stuff, but if you want something else, just let me know," he says, handing me a plate and pointing to the array of food on the small dining table.
"This looks great."
I fill my plate, wondering the entire time if he was being honest yesterday when I questioned if he was calling me fat compared to the beautiful women at the warehouse. Instead of sitting beside him on the sofa, since he's right in the middle of it, I sit at the table and eat with my back to him.
He stays quiet, answering game show questions under his breath. I find it kind of endearing that he gets nearly every one wrong except for the eighties politics column.
After I'm done eating, I risk a glance in his direction, wanting to ask him about the massive dragon tattoo on his back, but I can't bring myself to speak. The thing moves when his muscles bunch and expand.
"Want to go back to the room?"
"Huh?" I ask, snapping my gaze up to see him watching me over his shoulder.
"You look like you're still hungry."
I want to slap his face for the way his teeth rake over his bottom lip. He has no damned business being so damned good-looking.