Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” he says in a slightly more subdued voice.
“You’re welcome. Was that all?”
He nods slowly but still shows no sign of leaving. So much brooding, with his rigid shoulders and set jaw. Like he’s feeling a lot and is not the least bit happy about it. Which is when he notices the small bandage on my wrist and scowls some more. “What happened there?”
We’ll be spending the night in the hallway, at this rate. Just us and the ghosts. I don’t answer him, but I do hold the door to my room open. It feels like kicking myself, letting him back into my life. If that’s what’s happening. I am such a sucker for this man. My idiocy knows no bounds. He follows me into the room and stands at the end of the bed. He truly broods like no other. It’s such a talent. And in the low light, the shadows beneath his eyes are like bruises.
“When was the last time you slept?” I ask.
“Had an early start this morning.”
With my sneakers off, I climb onto the bed. It really is comfortable. I pick up the remote off the bedside table and turn on The Vampire Diaries. Oh so carefully, I pick at the tape securing the bandage on my left wrist. It doesn’t take long for the black ink lines and irritated pink skin beneath to be revealed.
He takes a step toward me for a closer look. “You got a tattoo?”
“After my skateboarding lesson. Don’t worry. I went to a studio with a stellar reputation.” I hold up my hand to show him the simple outline of a book and its ruffled pages on my wrist. It’s about an inch and a half square all around. Not too big.
“You had a skateboarding lesson? Lilah, you’re still recovering from a car accident. Was that really a good idea?”
“Are you aware that you’re a worrier?” I ask. “It was fine. I had fun. And it’s still safer than bungee jumping or skydiving.”
He sighs. “What’s next on the list?”
“I don’t know. My decision to be more daring is shaking things up.”
A moment of silence passes. Guess neither of us knows what to say.
“I’m sorry if you feel that I was being unreasonable just now,” he says.
“Is that your idea of an apology?”
He grips the back of his neck and frowns his heart out. “It was never my intention for your feelings to get hurt, but I—”
“No. Stop. That’s not it either. You’re seriously bad at this, aren’t you?”
This time he simply says, “I’m sorry.”
“You can stay and watch TV if you want. This is the episode where Caroline just got turned into a vampire. It’s one of my favorites. She throws Damon down a hallway, and boy, does he deserve it.”
For a minute, he just stands there. Then slowly, warily, he walks around to the other side of the bed. A wild animal would be less cagey. Such a shame I wasn’t a Girl Scout, because I have earned my badge for dealing with grumpy bears. Alistair toes off his shoes and removes his coat. Then he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and folds them back. That he feels safe enough to let his guard down and relax is like Christmas to me. Though his exposed forearms shouldn’t affect me so much. He’s only getting comfortable. But everything low in my belly draws tight. The scattering of dark hair and lines of his muscles. How efficient he is with those big, strong hands.
He catches me staring and happily jumps to the wrong conclusion. “I had meetings today.”
“It’s a nice suit.”
“I can only stay for one episode.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t like you being alone,” he says, as if I demanded he justify his actions.
“Me being alone seems to bother you more than it does me. Have you noticed that?”
Nothing from him.
“I was alone a lot when I was younger. Guess I got used to it. My brother always had sports practice or something after school. Until I was old enough to work in the café, I was home on my own most afternoons and evenings.” As much as I want to ask how much of his life he’s spent alone, I keep my mouth shut.
He sits down, extends his legs, and shoves a cushion behind his head. It’s just me and him and a TV. And that is fine and dandy—friends hang out, it’s what they do. Though I don’t want to get my hopes up too high for us actually having a friendship. He might change his mind again.
“I take it you’re here because the press are hassling you?” he asks. “That’s why you’re in a hotel?”
“I have it on good authority that there are some hiding in the bushes at home.”
He nods.
“Who’s the they you referred to?” I ask, treading on dangerous ground. Damn my curiosity. “You said they needed to know if I was doing the interview.”