Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I smell the scent that clings to her skin before I see her.
"Can we get another round?" Riley asks, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
"Watch out," I grumble, unable to stop the words from rolling off my lips. "She might try to burn your house down too."
Despite having said what I did, I can't seem to pull my eyes from my beer to look over at her.
"Are you kidding me?" she snaps.
"The fifteen thousand dollars’ worth of damage to my house and the hotel room I've been staying in for five days would prove that I'm not," I answer.
"You’re making it sound like the fire was my fault alone. Why don't you explain exactly how your kitchen caught on fire," she challenges.
I shake my head, my lip curled up in a sneer as I lift the beer bottle to my mouth and look in her direction.
"I'm a gentleman, and it's not proper to complain about bad sex."
"Bad—Bad!" Riley yells, smacking her hand down on the bar top as she continues to glare at me.
I see it in the redness in her cheeks the moment she realizes that she has drawn the attention of almost every person in the bar.
Instead of staying to argue further, she spins around and rushes for the door.
I can't help but watch as she hurries from the bar, guilt swimming in my gut as the heavy door closes behind her.
Walker gives me a disappointed look before walking away. With the guilt I feel, it doesn't take me long before I'm moving, pulling money from my wallet, and slapping it on the bar. The countdown into the new year has already begun by the time I make it outside, and it seems that I'm going to end one year and start another irritated at fucking Riley Wilson.
By the time I make it out to the parking lot, her car is already gone because I knew exactly where it was parked when I arrived. Hell, I looked for it when I pulled up with a smile on my face before remembering the chaos she has caused in my life over the last couple of weeks.
I know I should probably leave well enough alone, but her being mad at me doesn't sit right with me. It hasn't for the last couple of days. I've tried to convince myself that it was the recent repairs needed for my house that have been souring my stomach, but the relief that pissed me off so much at the sight of her this evening says otherwise.
I walk to my truck, questioning my intentions with every step that carries me closer. My mind is in a battle of what to do, but instead of turning toward my house, I turn in the opposite direction and drive toward hers.
A better man would've never said what I said out loud. A better man wouldn't bring up his bedroom business in front of others, but she has this way of crawling all over every damn nerve of mine.
I ignore the erection that grows in my jeans the closer I get to her house. That fucker has gotten me into enough damn trouble where she's concerned, and I'm not going to let him keep making decisions for me.
I try and convince myself that I have it under control when I pull up in front of her house, but the way my jeans chafe my cock, I know better.
The walk to her front porch is slow and when I lift my hand and knock, my attitude no better than when I left the bar because this is all her fucking fault. I lose my damn mind when she's around. That may be a me problem, but I still feel the need to point fingers at her.
She opens the door, sneering at me, but the redness around her eyes tells me that she's been crying. It hits me square in the chest to have been the one to make her react this way.
"Riley," I whisper. "I'm sorry."
Her back straightens, that top lip of hers curling into a snarl.
"For what?" she snaps. "I stubbed my toe. It has nothing to do with you."
I look down at the boots on her feet, knowing that she's lying, but even my raised eyebrow doesn't make her change her story. If anything, she straightens taller, doubling down as if to challenge me to argue with her.
"You're one giant egotistical asshole, Mac Hammer. Not everything is about you." She shifts her weight, making me wonder if she is about to slam the door in my face. Honestly, after what I said to her at the bar, I know I deserve much more than that. "I'm sorry about your house. I had no idea the damage was so extensive. I didn't know you couldn't live there before it was fixed."