Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I pull the truck to the side and flip on my hazards. I look down at the car and think I’m seeing the airbags at first, except they should’ve deflated by now.
I realize what I’m looking at, though. It’s a big, poofy wedding dress practically taking up the whole cabin of the car. I don’t know how the girl even drove safely with that thing on. Actually, it kind of explains the fact that her car is crashed in a ditch.
“You two wait here,” I say, getting out.
Liam holds up his hands in a “what the hell?” kind of gesture. Carter opens his mouth to say something, but I just jab my finger at him. “You can meet her when she gets in the car. But she might be freaked out. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Carter grumbles. “You just want first crack at her. At least be honest about it.”
I ignore him and slam the door, picking my steps carefully down the steep shoulder toward her car. “You okay?” I ask.
I approach the driver side window and can’t even see her through all the white lace. I hear her voice come muffled from inside the dress.
“How do I know you’re not a roadside serial killer?”
“Uh,” I say. I was kind of expecting her to rush out of the car and offer me thanks. “I know your brother, Jake.”
“Prove it.”
I can’t help grinning a little. I feel like I’m speaking with a talking floof of lace and white silk right now. A sassy floof of lace and white silk, that is.
“Your brother is going to kill me if you freeze to death out here. So I’d really prefer it if you got out of the car and followed me up to the road. I’ve got the heat blasting in my truck right now.”
There’s a long pause. “I am a bit nippy,” she admits.
“Can I get you out of there, then?”
“Alright, beefy hockey guy. Let’s do this.”
I pull on the door, but have to give it a few yanks before it comes loose. The girl practically falls out of the car and lands straight on me. She grips my hips on both sides, trying to keep herself from falling, but my feet catch on a patch of something that leaked from her car and froze. We both go toppling backwards. My back hits cold dirt and her face lands in my lap. She screams into my crotch, bare feet kicking uselessly as she’s tangled in her dress and her feet can’t get traction on the frozen ground.
All she’s managing to do is grind her face harder between my legs. I try to get up, but my feet slip, too.
The sound of laughter from above makes me look up just as she realizes her only chance of escape is to roll sideways.
“Jesus,” Carter says, skidding his way down the hillside. “And I thought Liam worked his magic fast. Four seconds and you already got her going down on you? I find it usually works best if you take your pants off first, though. Feels a lot better that way.”
“I’m so sorry,” she says, teeth clattering.
“Shit,” I say, managing to get up and extend a hand toward her. She takes it, and her skin is freezing.
When she gets up, her dress finally pulls away from her face enough for me to see her. Her skin is pale and her hair is dark. She has big, bright brown eyes and an upturned nose. She looks like a fucking princess, and she makes my breath catch. Her wedding dress has bits of leaves stuck all in the clingy lace fabric and the hem is torn up to mid-thigh on one side, like it got caught on something. I realize I’m admiring the shape of her leg and blink, forcing my eyes somewhere else. “Come on,” I say, hand still holding hers.
“Should Liam and I wait outside the truck and give you two some privacy?” Carter asks. “I mean, if you guys want us to watch, that’s cool, too.”
“We slipped,” I say. “Can you shut up and help? She’s fucking freezing.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” she says through clattering teeth.
“Where are your shoes?” I ask, looking down at her feet, which are covered in dirt.
“I tried to pull a Cinderella. But I lost both shoes instead of just the one. So much for my fairy tale exit, huh?”
Something about her carefree attitude despite a moment in her life that has got to be near rock-bottom strikes me. Her eye makeup is smeared and there’s a twig stuck in her hair. Her car looks like it’s posing as a letter of the alphabet and her wedding dress is covered in dirt. All this, and she’s making lighthearted jokes?
“Did you hit your head?” I ask.
“You know,” she says. “I’m starting to get offended by how often people ask me that.”