Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
I can sense Benson smiling from behind the wheel, even with the privacy screen up. I follow her to the front door.
She spins around. “What the hell are you doing? I’m home.”
“Having dinner with you. How many times do I need to say it?”
“You weren’t invited,” she points out.
“And I’m not leaving until we talk this out, Jenn. If that means eating with your folks and a couple dogs who could eat me if I piss you off enough—”
“Pssh! Coffee would rather lick you to death, and you know it.”
I smile. “Maybe. Can’t say the same for Cream. Women are wildcats when they step in to defend their friends from a man who’s pissing them off.”
Shaking her head, she stabs a finger at the dark vehicle behind me. “Go home, Miles. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Only if you come with me.”
“Never.”
“Right. Looks like I’m staying the night then.”
“Go home. Go home. Go home!”
She’s shouting now.
There’s this weird roughness in her voice, and I almost give up before I cause a nervous breakdown. Only, that’s not rage or distress in her eyes, I realize a second later.
She’s laughing.
Even if she wants to tear me limb from limb on her parents’ doorstep, she still finds my antics entertaining.
For a heated second, our eyes lock, and we’re stranded in uncertainty.
Then the Dobermans bark loudly from inside the house.
A slender blonde who looks a lot like Jenn in the face opens the door. “Jennifer, what are you doing out here in the dark? Come inside. The dogs saw you and they’re already in a frenzy!” Her eyes fall on me. “Oh, you brought a date home? Why didn’t you tell me you were with Ryan Reynolds?”
“Mom!” she hisses.
I offer her mother my hand. “Hello, Mrs. Landers. Miles Cromwell. Jenn was helping me with a very important media project and it ran rather late.”
She shakes my hand, beaming at me like I really am a heartthrob actor.
“Mr. Cromwell, of course! Wow. I guess all those years she spent glued to her phone paid off. She was always so persistent with her homework and it’s the same with her work ethic.”
“Your daughter has impeccable discipline,” I agree.
And I enjoy watching a red-faced Jenn, who won’t dare look at me.
“You didn’t save her a trip home, did you? You should stay for dinner, Mr. Cromwell.”
“Call me Miles, Mrs. Landers, and I’d be delighted. Jenn already invited me, but I didn’t want to impose.”
“Did not!” she whispers from one corner of her mouth.
“With your approval, I think I will. A good home-cooked meal is hard to come by in my business. Devil’s hours and all that.”
“Bring your appetite and come on in!” Her mother motions us inside with a bright grin.
Jenn’s look daggers me.
“Your mother asked. It would be rude to say no,” I say with a shrug.
We follow her mom inside. Jenn stays a few steps back, lingering in the entryway.
“Mom, could you give us a minute?”
“Of course.” Her mother starts down the hall.
The second she’s out of sight, Jenn grabs my arm and digs her little nails into my skin.
“What’s wrong, kitten? I’ll take off my shoes.”
“Don’t you dare leave this foyer. What do you think you’re doing?”
“I told you. I’m staying until we’ve talked this out, and right now, it looks like I’m having dinner with your generous parents.”
Her eyes drift up to the ceiling, begging for help from above that’ll never come. I’m sure God is on my side.
“This is harassment, you—”
“Harassment implies motive, and I laid mine out very clearly from the start. Besides, just because I’m a billionaire doesn’t mean I’ll turn down free food.”
“You know what? Fine. Fine. Stay all night if you have to. After the crap you’ve pulled, I’m not speaking to you. I’m stuffing my face and going to bed. Alone,” she stresses.
I smile like she’s just agreed to two weeks in Maui with me.
I’ve seen her glare a hundred times, but never this viciously.
Progress.
The only thing worse than molten contempt from a woman you’re trying like hell to win back is when she feels nothing at all.
“Sweetheart, can you show Miles to the table? We’re almost ready!” her mother calls from the kitchen.
I give the air an exaggerated sniff, smiling like I’ve just walked into a busy steakhouse. I don’t have to pretend I’m hungry when my stomach rumbles.
“You heard the lady. Dinner’s ready and I’m hungry as hell tonight.”
“I’m going to murder you in your sleep,” she vows under her breath.
“Lovely. That implies you’ll be with me when I’m sleeping tonight,” I whisper in her ear. “Careful. I might risk an untimely death if it means watching you come your little brains out for me five more times.”
Her face could rival a Carolina Reaper.
“You might want to cool down first, Jenn. Drink some water. Otherwise, your parents will wonder what in the world we’ve been discussing,” I advise.