Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 122946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
“Turn the knob towards the H for hot—”
“There were showers in 1920.” Theseus tried not to laugh at me.
“Never mind then,” I said, tossing one of my clean towels at him and closing the door behind me. “Try not to break the handles off anything, please.”
I waited outside the door, not sure he could actually figure it out, no matter how great the showers were a hundred years ago. But sure enough, I heard his clothes drop to the floor before he stepped inside the glass. It took only a second for the shower to come on and from the slight hum in the pipes, I knew he’d turned on the hot water full blast.
“You do not have to wait at the door. It is your bathroom; you may enter.” His voice startled me a bit, and I glanced over my shoulder.
“I’ll go see if I have any clean clothes you can wear.” I moved toward my bedroom.
There wouldn’t be. The only male clothes I had were a box of my father’s old things, which I kept in the back of my closet. After he’d died, I’d just put whatever I could in there and left. I wasn’t even sure what was in there anymore. He didn’t have much by the end of his life.
Dropping to my knees, I opened the first box but only found a few Peace Corps notes and flyers. The second was more of the same. It was only the last one that contained a few clothes: a short-sleeved shirt and some Red Cross sweatpants. I sniffed both, the smell of dust and a faint scent of downy fabric softener were the only scents I could smell. It hadn’t been that long, but my father’s scent was completely gone. Taking them both, I stepped back into the living room just as he stepped out of the bathroom with my burgundy towel around his waist. Water slid down his taut abs. His black hair was wavy and wet and clung to the top of his head.
Get it together, Druella. “That was fast?”
“Your neighbor also began using his shower and is singing,” he grumbled.
I closed my eyes, and sure enough, I heard the terrible gruff voice from the man next door, signing the worst rendition of “Into the Groove” I’d ever heard.
“What you don’t like Madonna’s music?” I joked, handing him the clothes and trying not to look at his chest again.
“I do not know what this Madonna is or if that is the name of the man singing, but either way, I am insulted on behalf music,” he replied, taking the clothes from me.
I couldn’t help it; I laughed. “You’re just going to suck up it sadly; homeless people cannot complain about my neighbors.”
“I am not homeless,” he said, taking the shirt and placing it over his head. “I have several estates across Europe, and those under me, as well as family that would manage whether I have been there or not.”
Several estates…across Europe!
What?
“Then why the hell are you in my apartment, asking for my help? Just go back to Europe and figure out what happened to you in 1920,” I snapped.
“Figuring out what happened in 1920 is not the problem,” he replied, his voice stern as he stared into my eyes. “Figuring out why I woke up in the middle of the forest, a hundred years after I planned to come to America to find my mate, only to have her find me is my problem.”
At this point, I was sure there was a problem with my ears. Him finding me? Me finding him?
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Chapter 3
“Are you sure you do not wish to shower also?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard my question. Lifting the pants to check them, he then tossed them back on the counter, taking off his towel to change right in front of me.
Meaning, he was naked again…in my apartment.
Not answering my questions.
Turning around, I glared at an unfinished painting of the Creation of Adam I was working on. “Is it really so hard for you to keep your clothes on? I feel like you’re trying to distract me, and it’s not going to—”
“If it’s not working, why are you turned around?” He spoke directly into my ear, making me jump a little and face him.
“So, you are doing it to distract me!”
“I’m doing it because I do not have properly fitting clothes.” He chuckled. “Though if it arises such a reaction out of you, then I may make a habit out of it.”
“Don’t!” I handed back his towel.
He rolled his eyes and put it around his waist. “Better?”
Not at all. Because I was still stuck staring at his damn chest. Why did he look like a damn fitness model?
“Ms. Monroe?” he said with a teasing voice.