Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“All right…” Skepticism tinged his voice. “Are you sure?”
“Yep.” I was wearing a skirt and spaghetti-strapped shirt with ruffles around the v-neck, so I wasn’t worried about getting hot. “It’s not my fault if you always wear black shirts.”
“I don’t always wear them.”
“You have at least twenty white shirts, and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you in one.”
“I like black.”
“I suppose it matches your soul.”
He smirked, his head twitching in my direction. “And my heart. It’s a curse.”
I ignored the implications of that given my earlier thoughts about my growing feelings toward him and stuck my hands into the pockets of my floaty skirt. “So, you want to talk.”
He adjusted the collar of his shirt. “You disappeared this morning.”
“Uh…You disappeared, actually.”
Lines formed on his forehead. “No, you went upstairs and I used the downstairs bathroom to shower. I figured you needed a few minutes after I was short with you.”
Oh, good. My entire day had been based on what was apparently a misunderstanding between two grown adults, and we were going to deal with it the long-ass way around.
Just fabulous.
Fuck.
“I didn’t—I’m going to need a drink for this conversation.” I turned right immediately into one of my favorite cocktail bars.
I loved it when that happened.
“Fun. Cocktails are my favorite,” he drawled, catching the door just before it could shut after someone left. He motioned for me to go in first, and I did so, ignoring his snark to remove my glasses.
I grabbed a tall table in the back corner, hung my purse on the hook beneath the table, and sighed. “Get the Hickey Mickey,” I said.
“What the hell is a Hickey Mickey?”
“Makers on ice.”
“Is that the best they have?”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. Too common for you?”
He half-smiled, sitting down. “Just asking.”
I rolled my eyes and placed our order the moment the server came over. We sat in silence as we waited for our drinks to be brought over—his whiskey and my frozen strawberry mojito. I peered into the frozen, red drink, mixing the ice with my straw, and quietly said, “I’m sorry for asking something that’s obviously uncomfortable for you.”
“Don’t be.” He reached over the small table and brushed his thumb over my cheek. It was such a tender touch, so out of place for him. “You were just asking, and I had a feeling you would. I probably shouldn’t have been as sharp as I was. It was just a question.”
I glanced up at him. His hand was still resting on my jaw, and there was a slight smile playing at his lips.
Lowering his hand, he said, “My family is a tough topic for me.” His voice was slightly strained as if the admission was hard for him to make. “It’s not a great situation. It’s hard to explain and—”
“It’s complicated,” I finished for him with a slight smile.
“Yeah. Complicated. That’s one word for it.” He let go of a long breath before wiping the hint of frustration from his features with the hand that was just touching my face. “So, what happened to you this morning? You disappeared into nowhere.”
“I didn’t disappear.” I tapped my finger against the tabletop. “I went upstairs to get dressed because you were obviously in a terrible mood and decided it was best if I left. So, I called a cab, and then when I got back down, you were gone. It was silent.”
“And you decided to go instead of trying to find me?”
“What was it? A game of hide-and-seek?”
“No, good manners.”
I pursed my lips. “If you were in the shower, why didn’t I hear it?”
“I’m assuming,” he said slowly, “it’s one of those wonderful coincidences where I’d just turned it off and was still in the bathroom. I heard a door shut, but I thought it came from upstairs.”
Wrong. “That would have been me leaving.”
“Coincidence it is, then.”
I sipped my drink with a huff. “Coincidences like that don’t happen in real life. What bullshit.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Is that because you’ve been in a horrible mood all day or because you didn’t get to see me wet and naked?”
I paused. Actually, now that he mentioned it…
“You’re considering your answer very carefully, aren’t you?”
“Am I that obvious?” I twisted my mouth to the side. “Damn it,” I said at his nod.
He chuckled, the low laugh sending a tickle of happiness down my spine.
I reached back and scratched it. Damn it again.
“Both,” I finally answered, seeing his smile around his glass. “There’s no use lying about it.”
More low laughter.
That laugh was really starting to get on my nerves. Specifically a bundle of them. Between my legs.
I squirmed and sat up straight. “Okay, so now we’ve both apologized and agreed we were wrong—”
“I didn’t say wrong.”
“I’m saying it for you. You don’t need to. You know I’m right.”
He lifted his glass back to his lips and peered at me. “Of course, you are.”