Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
My mouth opens and for a long time, nothing comes out. There are eight condos in that little complex, formed around a quad. It’s not pretty. Not nearly Alec-Mansfield quality. With his upbringing, he’s all waterfront-mansions and top-floor penthouses and European chateaus. This must feel like a major downgrade for him.
“Why’d you pick that dump?” I ask because all of this feels a little too convenient to be coincidental.
He shrugs. “I needed a place. It’s close to downtown.”
There’s something behind that, something he isn’t telling me.
“Are you stalking me?” I ask, choosing not to mince words.
“Stalking’s not really my thing.” He’s pouring me another glass—my third.
But instead of stopping, I forge on, letting my curiosity get the best of me.
“So, what made you move back to Sapphire Shores of all places?” I ask.
“Guess part of me missed it.” He takes a careful drink.
“Missed this place?” I look around. Is he crazy? If I were him with all that Mansfield money and a license to practice medicine, I’d have left this hole-in-the-wall town and never looked back, not once. Aside from pretty sunrises and a close proximity to the ocean, it’s a dead end. This town is nothing but families that’ve lived here for generations upon generations. Maybe a cute downtown district and a handful of decent restaurants. That’s pretty much it. Everything else requires a drive to Portland. “Weren’t you in south somewhere? Georgia?”
“Close. North Carolina.”
“Oh, I get it. You missed being in a place where everyone worshipped you?”
“Nah. People worship me wherever I go.” His devilish glint returns in full force, sending an electric flash to my middle. “We’re getting low.”
Grabbing the nearly empty pitcher, he climbs to his feet and goes to get another one. My head is swimming. I’m tipsy. This is moving too fast while somehow managing to drag by at the same time. It’s got to be the alcohol messing with my perception of time.
I need to get control back, now.
Right now.
But the room’s spinning.
And I’m way past buzzed.
When he turns around and heads my way and the first thing I think is how I’d love to taste his lips instead of this damn bitter beer—I know I’m drunk.
I fumble for my purse, pulling out Charlotte’s Web. Cracking the spine at the bookmarked page, I pretend to be totally engrossed despite it being too dark in here to read a single sentence, and all the words are blurring in front of me.
After a moment, I look up to find his eyes on me.
Curious.
Assessing.
Almost taking me in like it’s the first time he’s ever seen me before.
“Don’t let me interrupt you,” he says, amused. I’m sure I look ridiculous.
My face flushes warm.
“I make resolutions every year,” I explain. “This year I promised I’d read a different classic for every letter of the alphabet.”
Alec nods, like he doesn’t seem surprised. After all, I’m the girl who dressed as Pi for Halloween three years in a row. He simply leans over and looks at the cover. “You’re on C?”
“What gave it away?”
His lips twist. “I don’t have much time to read for pleasure anymore.”
“I’m sure. Doctor.”
I’m expecting a snooty remark, like and don’t you forget it. Instead, he points to the book. “That’s your next one. Doctor Zhivago.”
I almost forgot. He’s so devastatingly handsome it’s easy to lose track of the fact that he’s brilliant. He wasn’t a meathead who got into MIT on a hockey scholarship. No, my brothers said he could do complex mathematical equations in his head. He got a perfect 1600 on his SATs and landed some prestigious award for it. The fact that he knows about literary classics is as obnoxious as it is sexy.
I close the book. “I never liked Pasternak. Too depressing.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You do realize you’re reading a book where the title character dies and all her children run off and desert her … right?”
I exhale, cocking my head. “Way to spoil the ending for me.”
He cracks a smile. “You’ve never read it before?”
“Only about … a hundred times.” I give him a wink, which I didn’t mean to do.
Oh, god—are we flirting?!
Damn drinks.
He gazes is heavier than ever, and I hold his stare despite not being able to feel my face. That heat that resided in my neck earlier is everywhere now, radiating down my extremities, bursting in my chest.
I’m drunk.
So drunk.
So drunk, in fact, that my heart does the cheesy pitter-patter thing every time our eyes lock from across the table.
I’d envisioned storming in here tonight, saying all the words I’d swallowed up years ago, then dashing out of here with my head held high. Now I’m all but glued to my seat, soaking in how strangely alive it makes me feel every time Alec looks at me like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen in his life.