Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Also? She looks so honest-to-goodness gorgeous when all hot and defensive, a little bit angry, and a whole lot stubborn that my dick slams against the fly of my pants. I’m not sure if he’s saluting her or if it’s some kind of sign for me. It should be a sign to get out of here because getting my dick involved in any of this is just a recipe for a dick soup disaster.
Christ.
It’s a recipe for trouble.
Big dick trouble.
Any dick would be too much trouble. The big is…well, I’m just saying.
She continues, “Anyway, you’re not moving in here because I haven’t hired you. I can’t afford your services. And your life is far too valuable for any amount of money I could offer.”
I can’t tell her that I’d do it for free. Also, what the hell? Why do I want to do it for free? Why do I suddenly want to stay here, day and night, in this tiny little farmhouse to ensure this woman’s safety when she’s someone I basically just met? She’s a client on a completely different contract. She was supposed to just stay a client.
But the truth is, she’s not just a client.
If she were just a client, then I wouldn’t even be here right now. I would have taken my one night, ran with it, and never looked back. I wouldn’t have booked extra nights. I wouldn’t have wanted to see her so badly that I did the unthinkable and bound myself to her.
Even if I could afford to pay out the contract.
The contract. It might be the one thing I have left to argue in my favor. “We have a contract. It says if you don’t fulfill it, then you’ll be charged to pay back the fees for those missing nights.”
“You can still come,” she says, rolling her eyes and regaining back more and more of her former spirit with every minute. “I’ll still be here. I’m not leaving. I’m not running again.”
“Good.” I crunch my knuckles like I’m waiting for a good fight. “I’m glad you’re being brave. I’m glad you want to stand up to this, but you don’t have the resources and tools to do this alone. If you hire me, then I can help you.”
“I can’t hire you. I don’t have the money to hire you. We’ve already been over this,” she says exasperatedly.
“First, you’re in no position to be offering your bed as a rental when it’s not a safe environment, so it puts you in breach of the contract. Second, I’ll waive my fee. Let me fix this for you, and while it’s all being settled, you come and stay with me for a few weeks. It will only take a few weeks, and then I’ll call the contract null and void. I’ll even pay you out for it at the end of it all.”
“Why would you call me out for a breach of the contract, waive your fee, and then pay me out anyway?”
Yeah, that doesn’t exactly make sense now, does it? I’m trying to get her on a technicality, so it’s not so damn obvious that I’m desperate to keep her safe. And why that is…I don’t even know. People don’t get under my skin, I don’t work for free, and I don’t let myself care.
“And what about the cats?” she adds.
“You’re more worried about the cats than you are about yourself.” I have to point that out again. She doesn’t seem to understand that her safety is paramount. “Your ex is a criminal. He’s unpredictable, he’s a stalker, he’s stolen your personal information and committed fraud, and he’s stolen years of your life.”
“Dude, I know. It happened to me,” she says with a roll of her eyes. Then, she glances at my mug and gives me—I swear on cheese feet or whatever—the most evil curl of her lips. If someone like her could look evil. She’s more like play evil. And it’s darned adorable. My dick gives my pants another zipper punch. He’s in a fighting mood, too, apparently. “You haven’t drank your tea. Are you waiting for it to cool? Iced chai is delicious as well. You should have said you prefer it that way.”
I pick the mug up and down the whole nasty brew in a few swallows. She’s right. It’s gone cold. But she’s also wrong. It’s not at all more palatable.
“There are so many great health teas. I have a few in the canisters in my top cupboard. We could brew those up and give them a try. They taste…um, well, not so great, but they’re excellent for gut health.”
This woman might kill me with her teas if I’m not careful.
She might do a heck of a lot more to me than that, and the stupid thing is, I’m not being careful at all about it.