Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 111775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
“Hello,” she said with a wide smile before lowering into Maggie’s seat. “You’re Shay, right?”
I nodded warily because I didn’t want Maggie to come back and find some random woman in her seat.
“I’m Monica. I work at the bar downstairs. I remember one time there was this bloke who got really drunk and aggressive, and you hauled him out easily. I was so impressed.”
Again, I nodded, not wanting to be rude but also hoping she didn’t plan to stick around. Sadly, it seemed she did. Monica reached out and squeezed my arm. I frowned at her familiarity, instinctively leaning away from her touch. Her confidence cracked a little at my obvious dismay, and she removed her hand but continued talking, speaking more gently now, “It’s okay. I know you can’t speak. I’m fine with that. I was wondering if you wanted to dance with me?”
Over her shoulder, Maggie finally appeared, her eyes going from me to Monica. I shot her an apologetic look I hoped conveyed my irritation. Rhys was busy talking with Tristan, so he didn’t notice what was happening. Normally, my cousin was good at helping me out in those kinds of situations, but it seemed I was going to have to get myself out of it.
I stood when Maggie reached us, and Monica’s eyes widened.
“I think you’re in my seat,” Maggie said, glancing at Monica, who started to frown.
“You think?” she replied with a hint of attitude that surprised me. Most people would simply accept they were in someone else’s seat and get up.
Maggie looked to me, her eyebrows rising. I was about to pull out my phone and explain to Monica that Maggie was my date, and no, I wasn’t interested in dancing with her, when Maggie said, “No, I don’t think. I know you’re sitting next to my boyfriend, so could you please move?”
A smile tugged at my lips, not only because of how Maggie stood up for herself, but also because she called me her boyfriend. Possessive heat filled my chest. I fucking loved hearing those words coming from her.
I loved her.
The knowledge had blood rushing through my veins. I wanted her to belong to me, to be mine.
“Well, there’s no need to be so rude,” Monica sniffed, finally rising from the seat and walking off. Maggie stared after her, looking regretful before she turned back to me.
“Was that too harsh?”
Still smiling, I shook my head and approached her, unable to prevent myself from signing, I love you so fucking much. I didn’t think she’d be able to translate it, though there was still a chance she would, and that got my adrenaline pumping. She blinked at me, then asked, “What was that?”
Instead of responding, I captured her lips. I felt her inhalation, noting her surprise, before her mouth relaxed, and she granted my tongue entrance. My arms slid around her waist as I pulled her to me. Maggie looked so incredibly beautiful tonight. It had been a task not to do that as soon as I saw her on her doorstep earlier.
Her long, auburn hair was in loose curls, and she wore a tight black dress that stirred a hunger I couldn’t sate.
Maggie broke the kiss, her breathing choppy. “Wow, um, okay. What was that for?”
I smiled at her and mouthed, “Boyfriend?” A red flush instantly coloured her cheeks.
“I just said that to get rid of her,” Maggie replied. “I could tell you were uncomfortable.”
I was still smiling when I pulled out my phone and typed, “So, you don’t want me to be your boyfriend?”
She bit her lip, a rosy tint painting her cheeks. “Quit teasing me.”
My eyes darkened, my expression sobering as I shook my head. My meaning was clear. I wasn’t teasing.
Her eyelids fluttered, and I could tell she was nervous as she looked away and released a quick breath. “We should get something to eat. We haven’t tried any of the food yet, and it looks delicious.”
Maggie turned, heading in the direction of the buffet. I guessed her nervousness had her searching for a distraction, but I wasn’t mad at her. Committing to someone was a big deal for Maggie. I was aware of that, given her past and anxieties about being abandoned.
Paul McCartney’s “We All Stand Together” was playing as I followed her. Maggie grabbed a plate and started filling it with food.
“I heard her talking about you in the bathroom,” she said, glancing at me, and I shot her a questioning look. “Monica. I was in a stall, and she and her friends were talking about how hot you are.” A pause as she decided whether to try the spring rolls. In the end, she set one on her plate before admitting, “I didn’t like it. Hearing them talk about you made me jealous.” Suddenly, I was fighting a smile again. Maggie glowered when she saw my lips twitch. “There’s no need to look so pleased.”