Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 91079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“He’s pissed about the situation with Miss Sims. And his grandfather always puts him in a shit mood.”
“Well, he didn’t have to take it out on me.” I take a small sip. It goes down smoother. Probably because this is the kind of liquor you’re supposed to nurse. Not chug.
“You did break into his house, babe.” Laughter dances in Cam’s eyes. I might laugh along with him if I were in a better mood.
I cross my legs and Cam’s gaze drops to my naked knees a moment before it returns to my face. His grin widens.
I take a gulp of whiskey. Or scotch. Or brandy. Whatever this expensive shit is. There is no way I’m buzzed off two glasses. But I do feel less tense. A little warmer. And suddenly more passive about the situation.
“Look…” I pull in a deep breath. My limbs feel heavier when I release it. “What I did was wrong. I admit it. But me being here today? That’s not my fault. I could’ve told his secretary I was Miss Sims. But I didn’t. I could’ve asked him to bail me out. But I didn’t.”
A hiccup escapes my lips. It sounds exactly like a donkey bray. I take a couple more sips to chase them away.
“I hung up the phone, Cam. Hung it up.” Another hiccup. “Do you know I chose death over involvin’ Jake in my problems? My cell mate was gonna kill me if I went back in there. And I would’ve had to,” hiccup, “go back in there if you hadn’t come because they wouldn’t let me leave unless someone pick-ed me up.”
I finish off the glass.
Hiccup.
“I think I’m a little buzzed.”
“That’s a hundred and eighty-four proof single malt whisky you’re chugging, babe. Normally, people sip two fingers over a period of time. Your first glass was about four fingers.” He points at the empty glass in my hand. “That one was at least five.”
“Huh.” Hiccup. I study the crystal tumbler. Probably shouldn’t have filled this sucker to the top. “You know if the tables were reversed, and Jake was at my house instead of this way, where I’m at his house, things wouldn’t be like they are.”
Cam chuckles. “Not following.”
Hiccup.
“Well first of all, he wouldn’t have had to pour his own drink. Second, I’d have offered him some of my breakfast. B, he wouldn’t have had to,” I lower my voice and give my best impression of Jake, “’Prance around my damned house wearing my fucking towel,’” because I’d have found something for him to wear. Or not, probably ‘cause I’d want him in jussa towel. But I wouldn’t have bitched about it.”
Hiccup.
My head feels heavy. My neck not very supportive. So I keep my head down and run my finger around the rim of my empty glass. “He hurt my feelings, Cam.”
He eyes me thoughtfully. “I’m sorry he hurt your feelings, Penelope.” The sincerity in his tone is genuine.
“Thanks. Pee Paw Swagger’s a dick. Jake’s a dick. Alfred’s a dick for giving me that stupid top hat. Ross’s a dick for…well, Ross is okay. And you’re okay.”
Hiccup.
“Out of all y’all, you’re the best, Cam”
“Aww, she said y’all. Can we keep her Jake?”
A bottle of water appears in my line of sight. “Drink this.” I lift my heavy head and lean back, back, back until I meet the cool blue eyes of Jake Swagger. “All of it…please.”
I snatch the bottle from his fingers. Try to, anyway. Good thing he has a tight grip on it. I snag it on my second attempt. “So the cocky butthole,” hiccup, “does have manners.”
“Don’t push it.”
I mimic him in my head as I drink the water. All of it. Like he demanded. With an underlying promise of spanking me if I didn’t obey. And no. That is not the alcohol talking. Not my writer brain, either. I’m sure of it.
Hiccup.
Cam’s phone rings and he looks down at the screen then up at Jake. “Don’t be an asshole. I mean it. Don’t be a dumbass either. Ask her.”
Jake simply flicks his fingers in dismissal. His eyes on me. He ignores Cam who glares at him across the room. When Cam’s phone rings again, he releases a heavy sigh and leaves the room—frustration evident in his voice when he clips a quick, “What?”
Jake offers me a second bottle of water. This time I don’t snatch it. I take it and the crackers with a nod of thanks. “Ask who what? Was he talking about me? You want to ask me something?”
“No.”
Geeze.
Hiccup.
“Whatever. Well, I need to ask you something. A favor. And I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna mind this one.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
So damn cocky…
Hiccup.
He sits down on the couch and gives me an expectant look. I make him wait while I eat a cracker and ogle him in jeans and a gray T-shirt. I can’t decide if he’s hotter like this or half naked.