Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 142939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
But as my coffee cools and more time passes, I realize I need to get going. The squirrels could be feasting on my wires again, and I need to pick up a trap and a few other things before I head back out to the house.
Reluctantly, I rise from my seat.
She twitches, her gaze darting to the side as if she’s watching from her peripheral vision.
“Hey, sorry again about bumping into you.” The blue-haired woman smiles up at me with warmth.
I shrug. “Like I said, no worries.”
With one more look at the cute blonde–who very pointedly does not look at me–I toss my cup into the recycling bin and head out into the sunny day.
5
MAGGIE
“What the hell was that?” Ocean drops down in the chair in front of me. Way too much of her attention is fully focused on me. Ocean can be very paranoid. She’s great with hands-on tech, but she can leave wreckage in her wake.
“What?” I tuck my hair behind my ear, almost knocking my own glasses off my face. My glasses are my outside shield from the rest of the world. It might not be real, but it gives me the illusion it is.
“Okay, I know you’re clumsy, and it's adorable. In fact, it’s endearing, but you totally hit that skank with hot chocolate on purpose.”
I reach out and fix the tiny menu held up on a metal stand as I try to think of how I’m going to avoid this conversation with her.
“Don’t say skank.” I can’t really disagree with what she's saying, so redirecting the conversation is my best option.
Ocean rolls her blue eyes at my tactics.
“Nobody is more politically correct than us. But between you and me, I can call that bitch”–Ocean points a thumb over her shoulder back to the barista that has a terrible credit score and uses way too many filters on her social media. I mean I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t check all those things—“a skank if I want. Especially if I think my best friend is crushing on the man said skank is flirting with.”
“I don’t crush. Unless you mean in keystrokes.”
Being a good best friend, Ocean gives a small laugh at my terrible joke. “So?” She drums her matte black nails on the table between us.
“The credit card he used. All payments go to a bank account connected to a shell business account. I’ll need my computer.” I tap at my phone screen. There’s only so much you can really do from a phone.
“I didn’t realize you were into older men. I mean, I know you don’t have daddy issues since your dad is badass and super supportive. No daddy issues, right?”
“What?” Her question throws me off. It shouldn’t have. This is par for the course when it comes to Ocean. You never know what’s going to come out of her mouth.
Ocean keeps tapping her nails offbeat. I’m guessing she’s doing it to pull my guard down, knowing it will be hard for me to think with the uneven beat of her nails distracting me. The sound is unlike my father’s video games, which I’ve grown used to as background noise so I can drown it out. This is deliberate, and we both know it. She’s setting me up.
“You want to call him Daddy?” My mouth falls open because that was the last thing I was expecting. Did she really just say that?
“I don’t even call my own dad Daddy! You weirdo.” What the hell is wrong with her? Still, I have to admit that the idea doesn’t sound terrible in my mind. I press my thighs together, my body confused. It’s been this way since I saw Owen’s picture. Is Ocean on to something with this daddy thing?
“Hey, don’t kink shame.”
Oh crap. I totally did.
“Don’t apologize.” She holds out her hand before even I can predict what I’m going to do. I hate that when it comes to human interactions, I’m so predictable. “I’m only teasing you. Owen is just really off the grid. Reminds me a bit of your dad.” She shrugs.
Sure, from a distance he can appear that way, but he’s not fooling me. I have to give it to him, he’s good, really freaking good actually. I’m not one to crave attention, but I can be competitive.
Owen, I think, is different. He lies in wait, knowing how good he is. There is no need to prove anything. You don’t know he’s there until he strikes. Why that is so damn appealing and alluring to me? I don’t know, but it is. The more I watch him, the more I need to know. It’s either that or I’m being really paranoid. It’s likely the latter. This man is really throwing me off. Never in my life has someone evoked this sort of reaction from me.