Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
I stood and I did it quickly, needing to play up the effect I was going for and figuring a little dizziness would help.
I was right.
“Whoa,” I moaned, wincing. I held on to the bar and blinked Jamie into focus. “Can you help me to the bathroom? I’m feeling wobbly.”
I was lying. Big-time. But Jamie didn’t know that.
“You serious?” he asked, watching the display I was putting on.
I swayed and grabbed my head. This was all an act, too.
“Jesus, Legs. You barely made a dent in your second beer,” he said, coming to his feet. He slid his arm around my waist, gripping me and taking my weight when I leaned into him, playing the part, then he started walking me toward the bathrooms, which were tucked back in this small, narrow hallway next to the stage, away from the crowd.
Away from everyone.
No one was about to see what I had planned, which was the reason I was going through with this.
The hallway was dark and concealed, and when Jamie stopped at the door decorated with a bikini top, fitting, indicating the women’s room, he muttered a “there you go” under his breath and released me so I could enter.
Only, I didn’t enter. Going to the bathroom wasn’t part of the plan.
I righted myself, allowing my tipsy façade to fade away. Then I took a step back, turned, and blocked Jamie’s path out of this perfectly hidden hallway. I looked him square in the eyes, gave myself a second to enjoy the baffled look in his, which I enjoyed immensely, he really did look confused, before telling him, “You’re not the only one who never loses.”
I was referring to my pageant days.
And then, I flashed him.
I totally flashed him.
Never before in my life had I done anything like this, but a bet was a bet. And I was winning this one.
Jamie’s eyes lowered and he immediately started staring.
I was expecting shock. I was expecting desire, considering this was Jamie and I knew how he felt about me.
I got both.
I also got a groan.
Jamie McCade actually groaned looking at my bare breasts. That had never happened to me before.
This was the best plan ever. I was totally going to win.
Then he looked me in the eyes after I lowered his shirt, gaze burning, and promised, “You’re gonna pay for that.”
I didn’t know if he meant now or later and I wasn’t sticking around to find out.
Spinning around, I bolted to the bar, grabbed my things, and got the hell out of there.
And I did it grinning.
* * *
Later that night I was sitting on my couch, dressed comfortably in leggings and a baggy WildFox tee, and I was shifting my attention between the episode of Mob Wives I had cued up and the notepad I was doodling on, when I heard the sound of motorcycle pipes drawing closer and closer to my house.
I paused, pen stilling on the “e” I was tracing and head turning toward the window. My eyes narrowed.
He wouldn’t …
The sound kept coming, growing louder until I knew without a doubt it was emanating from my driveway. Then the engine cut off.
He would.
“Bastard,” I uttered, tossing the pad and pen on the coffee table and coming to my feet.
I marched to the door, unlocked it, swung the door open, and readied my greeting, which was going to be something along the lines of threatening castration if Jamie didn’t step off my property immediately, I’d had enough of this, but no one was there. My porch was empty.
What the …
“Hello?” I called out, sticking my head outside and getting a look at Jamie’s bike parked next to my car.
Weird. Where was he?
“Jamie?” I tried again, hollering a little louder this time.
“What’s up, babe?”
Gasping, I spun around and clutched at my chest.
Jamie was standing in my living room, looking a little too pleased with himself based on the smirk he was wearing, and holding what appeared to be a take-out bag full of food in one hand and a six-pack of Cherry Coke in the other.
I blinked at him, feeling my heart pounding against my palm.
“What are you doing in here?” I asked, darting my eyes around my living space. “How did you even get in?”
“Back door. Figured you’d try and keep me out this time so I got creative,” he answered, flashing me a smile when I looked into his face. He lifted his hand holding the bag of food. “Hope you like Chinese. Was gonna call, but I didn’t want you expectin’ anything. Sound familiar?”
I glowered.
“Got us an assortment,” he added, then he started moving toward the couch.
“Excuse me?”
“Dinner,” he clarified, even though I knew what he meant and exactly what this was.
It was happening again. Jamie was getting comfortable.
In my house. On my couch. With some seriously delicious-smelling food.