Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Rowdy: It’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen besides your ass.
Suddenly, the FaceTime notification on my cell starts chiming, buzzing and ringing, and I fumble, knocking my phone to the floor.
I grapple for the charging cord, reel it in like I’m fishing, and scramble to click on the nearby lamp.
It’s Rowdy.
It’s ten o’clock on Friday night, eleven o’clock his time.
“Hey.” His handsome smile is a wicked, welcome sight.
“Hey.”
I wipe the sleep from my eyes, propping myself up by the elbows so I can study his face.
“So, this is what you look like when you’re in bed, eh?”
Oh god.
Shoot me now.
“That shirt is not what I thought you’d be wearing.”
I glance down at it: a tank top that says I licked it so it’s mine. My mother hates it, so I have to wear a sweatshirt over it when I go down to the kitchen every morning for breakfast.
“What did you think I’d be wearing?”
“I don’t know—one of those cat onesies?”
“Shut up.” I laugh, snuggling down deeper into my pillow. “I don’t own a cat onesie.”
My onesie is a sloth, obviously, but he doesn’t have to know that.
His broad shoulders are bare, tan collarbone smooth, and the way he has his phone angled does nothing to afford me a better view of his assets. Dammit.
“So I’ve been thinking,” Rowdy starts with no preamble, leaning against a navy blue wall in a room I assume is his bedroom. “You doin’ anything this week?”
Am I? I rack my brain, going through the plans I made for the rest of the month, pulling the baby blue cotton sheet farther up my chest.
“Just going through my closet and taking whatever I don’t wear anymore to the donation center.” Man that sounds lame. “That’s about it. My dad might want to go skiing at some point before I leave because we just got a ton of snow.”
Rowdy’s face scrunches up at the mention of snow. “What about next weekend, like, Friday?”
“Hanging out with some friends who are home. What about you?”
He repositions himself on his bed, bending an arm and resting it behind his head to prop himself up, my eyes roaming to his armpit—good lord, even his damn armpit is sexy with its patch of light brown hair.
The cords in his thick neck strain, and I get a semi-decent shot of his chest. I was right, it does have a smattering of hair…
“…so that’s what they’re doing this year instead of staying in town,” he’s saying as he moves the phone an inch and I get a clear shot of the television in the corner.
I didn’t hear a word of anything he just said.
Too busy staring at his sleek skin and brown hair and into his green eyes.
“I…um, can you please repeat that? Was that a question?”
He smirks. “Something distracting you, Scarlett?” Flexes his pecs and biceps. Even his collarbone is mouthwatering.
“I was telling you my parents decided to head out of town—they’re taking a short cruise.”
“Wait.” I sit up. “They’re leaving you home alone for the holidays? That’s so sad! And so very Home Alone of them.”
He is unperturbed, yawning. “My dad’s friend hooked them up with a killer deal. He works for the cruise line in their food service division, so I’ll be home alone, but hopefully not for long.”
“Don’t tell me—you’re going to throw a kegger while they’re gone.”
He doesn’t respond right away, instead staring through the phone into my eyes until he has my full attention. Green eyes, black sooty lashes.
“Come to Florida.”
“I’m sorry?” Surely I must have misunderstood him.
“Pack a bag and come down.” He sucks on his bottom lip, and it glistens when he’s done, damn his sexy face. “Come see me. Please.”
I emit a weak little laugh, my stomach dipping into a clumsy curtsey.
“Rowdy, that’s crazy. I can’t up and fly myself to Florida.”
“Why not?
“Because…because it’s crazy!” Is it? Spontaneous and fun and adventurous, that’s what it is.
My heart speeds up, warming to the idea. Wanting to say yes but not wanting to appear too eager. Florida! With Sterling.
Nope. No. I can’t do it, it’s nuts.
“Why is that crazy? I want to see you—this vacation is too fucking long and it’s total bullshit.”
I can’t help laughing, even though he’s being serious.
Because he is being serious.
Hope and excitement and disbelief spear my heart like a thousand arrows.
“I checked flights,” he rambles quickly before I can interrupt. “They’re cheap right now because it’s so close to the departure date.”
He already checked on flights?
“Even so…” I sound weak—so so weak.
He’s stretched out now across his pillows, arm still above his head, bicep still bulging. Eyes mischievous.
“Coral reefs, Scarlett. Sand. Ocean life.”
I scrunch up my face; he’s not fighting fair anymore.
“Okay, now you’re just being mean. How close are you to the ocean if we had to drive?”
“Tallahasse to the coast? An hour. I promise I’ll take you snorkeling even if the beach is shitty.”