Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I yank the covers down.
Pillows.
Pillows!
That bastard created a dummy Duke with pillows, the oldest trick in the book!
And I fell for it.
He laughs at my pain, wasting no time bossing me around. “Come on, get dressed. I’m hungry and could use some caffeine.”
Duke extends his hand to help me off the bed.
“Can’t,” I tell him. “I’m too busy trying to get my heart back into a regular rhythm.”
“I got you good, didn’t I?”
Yeah, he sure did.
I shrug. “Whatever.”
He laughs. “Come on, Miss Scaredy Cat.”
Duke: 2, Posey: 2
I do not like these odds.
“Give me a second to change. I’ll be downstairs in less than ten minutes.”
I swap out my pajama bottoms for black leggings, shrug into one of my sports bras, and pull a red hoodie over my frame.
Sneakers on my feet.
I arrange my hair into a ponytail, then pull the ponytail through a baseball hat.
Put in some gold hoop earrings for good measure because—why not?
Clock ticking, I splash some cold water on my face, brush my teeth, and I’m bounding down the stairs, eager for our day together.
My heart’s still racing.
It skips another beat when I round the corner and see him leaning against the kitchen countertop, ready to pull the door open for me.
There’s a red pickup truck in the driveway, just as Eli promised Duke there would be.
“That was exactly ten minutes,” he announces when I climb into the passenger seat of the truck and buckle in, not worried I’m forgetting anything because we’re going on a mini-road trip to Madison. Two and a half hours in the truck with this guy?
“Told you it wouldn’t take long.”
Duke seems to look me up and down and over, taking in the hat and the leggings and the sneakers.
He doesn’t say anything more as he puts the car in reverse, giving a wave out the window as we back up past Mrs. Galvin, who incredibly enough is outside watering her plants at the side of her house.
“What on earth is she doing up so early?”
Duke chuckles. “She came out when the truck was getting dropped off. Wanted to know the status of her tickets for the Chicago game.”
“Since when did she become a hustler?”
He shrugs, his navigation already programmed. “I’m convinced that old dragon is runnin’ a scam out of her kitchen.” He looks both ways once we get to a stop sign before continuing straight. “Either that or puttin’ the hard press on me is her new favorite pastime.”
“What’d she say to you?”
“No sooner did I get outside to get the keys to the truck did she appear, almost scarin’ the shit out of me. Creepy like, you know?”
“No, I don’t know.”
He smiles as he turns again, this time onto the expressway. “My heart has been in my throat more times in the past week than in my entire life.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Yes, ma’am. The look of sheer panic and fear this mornin’ was worth haulin’ my ass out of the sack a half hour too early.”
I roll my eyes. “That was so mean.”
I know it’s not true, but I’m not sure what else to say, still embarrassed he got me so good. Not only that, but he also caught me red-handed, attempting to scare him.
I’m so glad I didn’t shout anything inappropriate.
There’s a sign on the side of the road listing all the coffee shops and fast food at the next exit, and Duke points at it. “Hungry yet?”
I nod. “Starving. Fun fact, I’m hungry as soon as I wake up. Like, my feet don’t even touch the ground, and I want to eat. So yeah—if you’re cool stopping, I didn’t grab anything before we left.” Plus, he promised me we would when he was coaxing me to join him. “I should have packed a few granola bars or something.”
Duke pats the center console. “Took care of that already.” He lifts the lid of the armrest between us. “Protein bars, two apples, two oranges, water, bag of sugar snap peas, bag of almonds.”
He closes it. “All the essentials.”
I peer inside. “All that fit in here?”
“We’re prepared in case we get stranded on the side of the road, and there’s no Trader Joe's in sight.”
“You shop at Trader Joe's?”
“No. The name just popped out of my mouth. I order groceries from time to time—don’t know where they come from.”
The man is clueless.
So utterly clueless.
Still, he’s taking me for breakfast, so that counts for something.
My order is easy—it’s the same thing I get almost every day, every week—and Duke orders himself a drink too before we’re on our way again, pulling onto the highway for a second time in the matter of a half hour.
“One half hour down, two hours to go.” He holds up his pink, frothy beverage. “Cheers.”
I tap my cup with his, smiling as I sip around the straw, careful to look out the window so he doesn’t see me grinning like an idiot.