Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
“Not what you expected?” she asks.
“No.”
“After I graduated, passed my exams, and received my license, my father gave me the money to remodel the top floor,” she explains. “It was a bunch of old, dark, twisty rooms before that.”
“Nice graduation present.” Kinda feels like she built her own—really nice—prison. She lives at her job, with dead people downstairs!—but I keep those thoughts to myself.
Two doors are on my left and Margot slides them open, revealing a long, narrow coat closet. She shrugs off her sweater and hangs it on a hook inside.
Past the closet, and farther left, there’s a closed door that I assume is her bedroom. But the hallway continues, leading to two other closed doors.
She holds out her hand.
I stare at her.
She drops her hand. “You can hang that up in there if you want?” Her voice falters and she glances away.
I like Margot but I don’t know her well enough to allow her to handle my cut. “Thanks.” I slide it off, and hang it in the closet.
“Do you want something to drink?” She kicks off her shoes off and nudges them into a straight line next to several other pairs of sneakers and boots.
“Sure.”
She glides soundlessly into the kitchen. Almost like a little kid skating across the polished floors. Cute.
I lean down and unlace my boots, toe them off and line them on the other side of the closet doors.
Something in the refrigerator clinks as she opens the double doors and stares inside. “I don’t have beer or alcohol.”
Without my boots, I slide silently into the kitchen until I’m right behind her. “That’s okay.”
She jumps and turns. “You’re quick.” Her interested gaze runs over me. “And quiet.”
“For now.”
She blushes and turns toward the fridge again.
“The Saratoga water’s fine.” I nod at one of the blue glass bottles lined up in the door.
She turns and stares at me with wide, shocked eyes, like my request doesn’t compute. “Bikers drink mineral water?”
I snort. “I can’t speak for all bikers. But this biker does whatever the fuck he wants.” I reach past her and pluck one of the bottles free.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” She grabs a bottle of lime juice and another mineral water.
“Yeah, you did. It’s fine. You think we’re all beer-swilling cavemen, I get it.”
Her cheeks turn even redder. I should dial it back. Margot doesn’t seem to recognize when I’m teasing her.
She’ll learn.
I set the bottle on the counter and walk over to the sink. Pink hand soap that smells like flowers flows out of the dispenser. Better than nothing. I wash my hands quickly and grab a paper towel to dry them.
Margot watches intently, and pulls out a large, sliding drawer to reveal a garbage can.
“Grimy from touching all the cars.” I tap my fingers together in front of her face.
She laughs softly.
I ease into one of the chairs at the kitchen counter and uncap my water. Margot stands across from me, keeping the counter between us.
“Does your father come up here often?” I ask.
“Almost never.” She leans sideways and gestures toward the door where there’s a small box in the wall. “He buzzes if he needs me.” A slight smile curves her lips. “I’m finally getting him to text instead, though. It’s been a slow process.”
Yeah, I’ll bet Cedarwood doesn’t like change.
I won’t ask how often she has guests overnight. Or if he gives her a hard time about it. Does she ever spend a night out?
The seating options are limited. I’d like her closer, but I want to go at her pace. I turn, in case there’s a couch I missed somewhere. But no, it’s just the jumbo-sized blue lounge chair. It’s roomy enough for two people if you don’t mind snuggling. Looks like a better spot to get comfortable with each other instead of heading straight for her bedroom.
“You don’t have people over often?”
“A select few.” Her already anxious smile wobbles slightly. “Not a lot of people want to hang out at a funeral home.” She rolls her eyes. “And the ones who are too eager to come over are usually walking red flags.”
I snort and nod. That doesn’t surprise me.
“You were the appropriate amount of interested and cautious,” she adds.
“My interest is purely in you. Not the environment.” In Margot’s serene and modern apartment it’s easy to forget there might be corpses downstairs.
“Do you mind if I change?” She tugs at the sides of her skirt.
But I’ve been aching to push that skirt up around your waist, bend you over something, and fuck you all night. “No, go ahead.”
No coy invitation to follow her into the bedroom passes her lips. She doesn’t even give me a second glance.
Maybe I need to recalibrate my expectations for tonight.
I take another sip of water and set it on the counter, then move over to the lounge chair to test it out. It’s low to the ground and the arms are so wide, I basically have to crawl into it.