Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“Listen, Daisy, it’s complicated.”
Complicated? Spoken like a true douchebag.
I laugh.
This guy is like Jekyll and Hyde—one second, he’s asking me on a date, and we’re laughing and having a good time, and the next, he’s apologizing because his lips were on mine?
“Calm down, buddy. It’s not like we were engaged. It was one okay date.”
My chin goes up.
“Okay date?” It doesn’t sound as if he believes me, but that’s his problem, not mine.
“Yeah, so? I said it was just okay, are you happy? No need to apologize.”
“What was just okay about it? I thought we had a good time.”
I snort, still pissed and insulted. “We went to a bar. It’s not like you were rolling out the red carpet, trying to impress me by being creative.”
Give me a break. We were surrounded by college students, and for the record, “Your ex-girlfriend or girlfriend even made an appearance. I always love when other girls hijack a date. Super fun.”
“I already told you, Shannon isn’t my girlfriend. She got me confused with my brother.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
Likely story.
I give Drew a pat on the arm, all but dismissing him. “Well, thanks for the lovely evening. Sorry we kissed, it’ll never happen again.” I toss my hair dramatically. “And by never, I mean—ever. Bro.”
There isn’t a self-respecting girl in this world who wouldn’t do the same, amIright?
“Did you just bro me?”
I nod with a laugh. Calling a guy bro is the only way I know how to keep one at an arm’s length or put him in his place.
Inside the house, the light to the living room goes on, and I see Gabby moving around, plate in her hand, probably about to park her rear on the couch and settle in for a movie.
“I don’t want to argue,” he says. “I didn’t mean nothin’ when I apologized, I just meant I should have asked permission first ’cause it’s the polite thing to do.”
The polite thing to do? Is he being serious.
“It’s a Southern thing.”
I lean against a post, crossing my arms. “Is it now?”
Drew nods emphatically. “Yes, ma’am.”
My eyes roll heavenward. “Okay, cool it with the Southern belle nonsense, you’re laying it on a little thick.”
“Does that mean you’re not mad at me?”
Am I mad at him?
Eh.
Maybe. Maybe not.
“We’ll see.”
Drew moves forward, resting his hand on my hip. “How ’bout I give you my number, and you can decide later if you wanna stay mad.”
His voice is low, tickling the nerves in my lower half, deep and gravelly. He’s doing it on purpose, and it’s working, damned if it isn’t.
Slowly, I nod, powerless against this guy in front of me who smells good and tastes good and feels even better.
“I’ll allow it. You can give me your number.”
“Sassy little thing,” he mutters.
No one has ever called me a sassy thing and the thing is?
I like it.
Daisy:
Well. After much deliberation I decided to bite the bullet and shoot you a message. After all, what’s the worst thing that can happen…
What’s the worst thing that could happen? Sassy girl, if you’re saying that, you don’t know me at all…
You going to keep calling me Sassy girl?
Why. Don’t you like it?
Jury is still out.
Do you ever just throw caution to the wind, and do what you want?
Um. NO. LOL
Um, NO?! Damn shame.
Oh please, don’t tell me you do. You don’t have the freedom to throw caution to the wind. I did a little research and studies show, Colter brothers have to act and behave a certain way to make certain agents—and fans—happy.
Aw, you were googling me…! So flattered.
Don’t be. I google everything.
LOL liar you do not.
Wanna make a bet???
Sure.
**screenshot**
Take a gander at my search history.
**low whistle**
You actually googled “how tall was P.T. Barnum?”
Obviously.
Um. WHY.
I wanted to know how tall he was!
Did you actually not know how fast a police car can drive?
How would I know how fast a cop car can drive?!
BUT WHY DID YOU WANT TO KNOW
Listen, we’re not here to debate my search history. I was merely pointing out the fact that I google a lot of useless information, including stuff about you.
Wow. I don’t know if I should be insulted or not.
Not. I didn’t mean it like that…
I was gonna say, this escalated quickly.
LOL
And here I thought we were going to flirt!
That IS how I flirt. Joke’s on you.
You weren’t flirting with me tonight, were you?
It’s sad that you cannot tell. But also: no, not really.
Why not?
Oh I’m sorry, were you flirting with ME?
I thought I was.
You probably think girls just automatically come to you so you don’t bother trying.
Not true. I try! Anyway, thanks for humoring me tonight and going on that date, and thanks for the kiss.
Now you’re THANKING me for the kiss?!
I mean—it was a nice kiss, yeah?
As much as I hate to admit it…
Why is this so hard for me? You’re busting my balls here.