Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“What d-do you t-think you’re doing?”
“Watching out for you.”
“Hardly, y-you’re trying to r-ruin my good time!” I shout over the music. Taking my arm, he tugs me away, off the dance floor, and leads me to the wall on the far side where it’s only slightly quieter.
Leaning a shoulder against the wall, he crosses his arms and the t-shirt he’s wearing pulls tight, showcasing the complex network of muscles and veins of his arms. Thirsty. I’m very thirsty all of a sudden.
Next, his blue gaze goes soft and sensual. If he thinks I’m going to capitulate that easily, he’s seriously delusional.
“I have a deal for you.”
Not what I was expecting but whatever. “I d-don’t n-need a deal.”
“You don’t know what the deal is. How could you know you don’t need it?”
“Because I d-don’t n-need or want anything from you.”
“Well that’s not very fair. You haven’t even heard my proposal yet. How do you know you don’t want something you don’t know?”
“You’re not going to l-leave me alone tonight, are you?”
“Not until you hear what I have to say.”
“Fine. G-G-Get on with it so I c-can get back to dancing.”
“Let me be your wingman.”
I’m speechless. For the first time in my life I am legit speechless. One minute of silence passes. Two minutes pass. “I d-don’t get it…”
“You’re giving me rides to the shelter.” He shrugs like all this makes perfect sense. “In return, I’ll be your wingman.”
“My wingman?” I repeat. I don’t know if I should laugh. I mean, he’s funny. This proposal is hilarious. The scary thing is, I think he’s serious.
“You still working on that list? How many do you have left?” I say nothing. I admit nothing. “Huh…” He studies my face. “I take it that means all of them.”
“I g-got a makeover, didn’t I? And the Ferris wheel. I got that one d-done––” I snipe defensively. Yeah, I’m losing this argument or whatever you call this, this negotiation.
Reaching out, he takes a piece of my hair and tugs. “You look beautiful,” he says without missing a beat. “I like the makeover.”
Wait…did he just throw it out there that he thinks I’m beautiful? And I’m supposed to roll with it like the plate tectonics of the planet haven’t just shifted? What kind of game is he playing?
“What kinda g-game are you playing?”
He looks momentarily confused. “No game.” He leans in for a closer look, eyes narrowed. “Are you drunk?”
“No!”
“Then I’ll repeat myself because you’re hard of hearing tonight. I wanna help you.”
“You w-want to h-help me with m-my list…are you drunk?”
“You wanna be bad, right? I know bad.” He proudly pats his chest. “I’m the king of bad. All I’m sayin’ is––that’s my department. Let me help you be bad.”
I giggle because, dear me, he is serious.
He leans in, his mouth inches from my ear, and murmurs, “Say yes, Dora. I know you want to.” The silky purr slides over my skin, pebbles my nipples, and makes me shiver. Then he looks into my eyes and smiles. And that look, that devil-may-care look, seals the deal.
What do I have to lose? Except possibly my heart. But I’ve already tried it the safe way and it hasn’t worked in my favor. That’s why I throw caution to the wind.
“Okay…you’re on.”
“Good.” He takes my wrist and leads me away again.
“W-Where are we going?”
“To dance.”
And irrepressible smile grows on my face. I. Am. In. Trouble.
Chapter Fourteen
Dora
“Come over at six,” Dallas says as soon as I answer my phone.
“In t-the m-morning?”
I am not an early riser. Not even a little.
“Dory”––a heavy sigh filters through the phone––“do you, or do not want to learn how to surf?”
“I do.”
“Am I not the best surfer you know?”
A grin stretches my lips apart even though it’s midnight and I’m half asleep. Turning in bed, I face the closet where the Cat Woman costume reminds me that I know how this boy’s lips feel. How they taste. What his sighs of pleasure sound like.
“I dunno, I hear R-Rea’s pretty…” My words fade at the mention of Reagan.
He’s gone, took off the day after the night at the club, leaving Alice without an explanation. Only a letter telling her to move on without him and the pink slip to his Jeep. As much as Dallas tries to hide it, I know he’s worried. As much as he tried to disguise it with humor, I know he misses him terribly.
“H-Have you heard from him?”
He takes a deep breath. “Nothing.” A full minute later. “I’m worried.”
“I know…I-I think he n-needs to forget all of us for a while.”
I know that’s what I used to do when life got overwhelming. My Kindle is a testament to that.
“Maybe…be here at six.” That’s his cue that he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. I’ve gotten pretty good at reading his tea leaves. “And insubordination will be met with punishment, young grasshopper.”