Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“A man, Moira, so I expect you to be on your best behavior!”
She hated Jasper, so I toyed with the idea of getting her out of the apartment before Hudson comes over, but the cat sitter who watched her a few months back suddenly had no availability once I gave her my name. I also thought about stowing Moira in my room while he’s here, but it took me a week of repeated washes to get the shrimp smell out of my pillowcase last time. And if I put her in there without shrimp, she’ll probably shred my curtains in a blind rage. So, it is what it is. Moira will be a third wheel for tonight, and frankly she’s the least of my problems.
I can’t get out of my own head. My nerves are shot. A jog through the desolate, snowy streets in the late afternoon does nothing to burn off my excess energy, so I decide it’s best to add alcohol into the mix. Before my shower, I pop the cork on a bottle of red wine my mom brought back from her most recent buying trip. The glass of Cabernet goes down a little too quick, so I convince myself it was a light pour. A second glass seems necessary. Thankfully, it does the trick. By the time I sit down in front of my makeup vanity, I feel cool as a cucumber.
Once I’ve done a perfect no-makeup makeup look, I layer my daring La Perla lingerie set underneath a black slip dress that boasts a shorter-than-short hemline. I’m about to go in for more wine when the chime by my door goes off.
Hudson’s right on time. I clear him with the doorman and then I wait at my door, swallowing down my last-minute jitters as best as possible before I hear footsteps out in the hallway. He doesn’t get the chance to knock before I fling the door open.
He’s wearing jeans.
Oh my god, I did not anticipate this curveball.
“Scarlett?”
I don’t even answer him. He’s wearing dark-wash denim and these beat-up brown boots, a black t-shirt, and a Cubs jacket. I barely resist the squeak of pleasure that wants to erupt out of me. He’s glorious!
“You’re being rude.”
His tone implies he’s teasing, but I don’t even have the good grace to move aside and let him in. I’m so flabbergasted.
“I don’t care,” I tell him. My eyes zero in on his body. “You look…different.”
“So do you. Now invite me in.”
“Okay, but be forewarned, I will be checking out your butt when you walk by me.”
My remark doesn’t even faze him; he’s used to me by now.
He doesn’t wait for the formal invitation (realizing it’s never going to come) and brushes past me—overwhelming me with the heavenly scent of his cologne—and then he walks into my apartment like he’s been here a hundred times.
“I like your place.”
“Thanks, I cleaned it all day. I didn’t want you to think I actually live here, I guess. That candle is new. The throw blanket too.” I step toward him and offer to take his jacket. He yanks it off in that sexy gruff guy way. Like can they not just remove a garment gently? With care? Apparently not.
I take his jacket to the hall closet, holding it high enough that I can steal another whiff of his cologne, just as I catch Moira hopping down from her perch on the windowsill. I issue an introduction-slash-warning: “That’s Moira, she’ll bite your hand off.”
A loud, sassy rawr bookends my words, and though my back is turned, I imagine Hudson just barely flinching back in time. When I look to confirm this—expecting blood and carnage, fingers hanging by stringy ligaments—I find that Moira has LAID DOWN ON HER BACK and EXPOSED her fleshy pink BELLY to him. She’s purring! I didn’t think she knew how to purr. I thought the happiest feeling she was capable of was simmering disdain.
She squirms and bats her paws at him playfully. She is FLIRTING with him. In my apartment!
He bends down and scoops her up into his strong arms. “She’s sweet.”
My eye twitches.
I’ve never once been able to gently hold Moira like he is. If I have to get close to her for some reason, like to take her for a vet visit, it’s an entire half-day ordeal to get her in her carrier. I start with treats that never work, then I go for the full-on chase-down method that ends with my arms being scratched raw and my nerves frayed and frazzled.
“She’s a wild beast,” I assure him.
“Really?” He nuzzles his nose against hers, and I just blink at them wondering if Moira somehow knows exactly what she’s doing trying to steal my man.
Eventually, after they’re done bonding, he sets her down and she winds through his legs before hissing at me as she walks back to her window of choice.