Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“Meet you in five.”
Men. So predictable.
I beat him to his place, but by the time I step off the elevator, he’s pushing through the stairway door after sprinting up the three flights.
“That’s just lazy, babe.” He rolls his eyes before unlocking his door.
I return the eye roll, stepping into his meticulously clean apartment. The funny thing about me? I clean homes, but the rest of my life is chaos. Even when I had a place to live, it was a disaster. How can one be good at cleaning houses yet live amongst such clutter? It requires a unique talent.
“I don’t have much—” Time … I think as his mouth crashes into mine before he gets the door closed behind us. We turn into a tornado of limbs and discarded clothes as we stumble our way to the bathroom.
“Brady …” I reach toward the shower, trying to turn it on. I do, in fact, have a limited amount of time. And despite his belief that my job is dirty and, therefore I can arrive at my clients’ homes sweaty and smelly, that’s not my level of professionalism.
He pulls away from me and smirks. “You said anything I want.”
“As long as it’s quick. I have to work.”
His head bobs side to side. “It can be quick, but I’m not sure you’ll want it to be quick.”
Things don’t go as I imagine, but he does cup my face and says, “I love you,” for the first time. A curious moment to profess his love to me.
I bite my tongue because the ego’s favorite meal is dignity. After Brady gets his anything promise fulfilled, my ego sinks its teeth into a big piece of my dignity. Strong people don’t always make the right decisions; they excel at moving on from the bad ones. I know I should be honest with him, but I can’t. Not yet.
It’s not that I don’t want him feeling sorry for me. That’s not why I don’t tell him about my homeless status. It’s because I know he won’t feel sorry for me. He’ll feel sorry for himself. Brady’s much too cool to have a homeless girlfriend.
I should leave him, and I should salvage what’s left of my dignity. But … I need a shower. And I need that gym membership because this won’t be the last shower I need while I sort through my financial situation. So as much as I want to tell Brady that I’m living out of my car …
Because I lost my trailer.
Because I have a shit-ton of medical bills.
And because I have epilepsy.
I just don’t.
I don’t trust him to care that much.
I don’t trust him to do the right thing.
I don’t trust his kind of love.
After taking it up the backside (literally), I’m rewarded with a quick shower and no conditioner. Brady waits at the door, sipping a sports drink—his proverbial cigarette. He wears smug better than most men. It’s not his fault I’m a hot mess who did promise anything for a shower.
“Can I buy you dinner tomorrow night?”
I think that’s the least he can do after I just bartered the integrity of my anal sphincter for a shower.
Forcing a smile, I draw in a confident breath. “Dinner sounds nice. Your place?”
Sex.
Shower.
Maybe I’ll get to spend the night too … since he loves me now.
“I could do dinner tonight if you want.” I head toward the stairs, knowing there’s no way he’ll take the elevator with me.
“I’m going out with some friends. Don’t you have friends to hang out with?”
No. I don’t have friends.
I left my friends behind when I cut ties with my mom and moved to Atlanta. And my friends from college have moved away to use their degrees. Mine resides somewhere in the back of my car, the most expensive piece of paper I have ever purchased. Brady would know this if he spent time asking me about myself. I know everything about him. I could fill out his family tree and recite his resumé. If he ever introduces me to his friends, I’ll know them by name on sight because I’ve asked Brady so many questions over our three months together.
Three. Months.
Really … we should know each other.
“Of course, I have friends.” I jog stiffly down the stairs. “I’ve told you all about them a million times.”
“I know, babe. Just kidding.”
Yeah, he loves me so much.
Before we part ways in the parking lot, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me while one of his hands slides to my ass and squeezes it. He smiles, releasing my lips, and I know what he’s thinking.
It’s not happening again. Ever.
“Message me the time and place for dinner tomorrow.” I peel his hand from my ass and plaster on a fake smile.
“Sure thing, babe.”
I arrive at nine forty-five instead of nine-thirty.
“Late on your first day?” Zach eyes me sternly as I step into the entry and remove my shoes.