Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
She turned around and shrieked. “You scared me!”
“Sorry.” Whatever she was making smelled so good, my mouth watered. “I knocked, but you didn’t hear it. I just wondered if this place had Wi-Fi.”
“Oh.” She wiped her hands on a towel. “I think so. Hang on.”
I closed the door and sat down in the rocking chair again, pulling my laptop onto my thighs. A moment later she came out onto the porch. “It’s this,” she said, holding her cell phone so I could see the screen.
I found the network and typed in the password. “Thanks.”
For a moment, she just stood there, watching me. She was barefoot, wearing very short shorts and a black tank top with some writing on the front, which I didn’t read because I did not want to be caught spying on her breasts.
(But for the record, they were a good size for someone so small—I’d even say pleasantly plump—and since I’d seen her naked, I knew her nipples were pale pink.)
“Do you need something?” I asked, without looking up from my screen.
“No.” She remained where she stood, fidgeting a little. “Are you emailing my brother to tattle on me?”
If I’d have been in a better mood, I might have laughed. “No. I’m working.”
“Oh yeah?” She sounded interested. “What do you do when you’re not invading other people’s vacation space and calling it security?”
“I’m not even in private security anymore. I own a bar. But it’s not open yet.”
“What kind of bar is it?”
“A sports bar.”
“Of course it is.”
I finally looked up at her. The dying sun lit her from behind, giving her red hair a hazy golden halo. “What’s that mean?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged. “You just look like the sports bar type.”
“And what type is that?”
“Tall, muscular, varsity jacket in your closet. You know . . . sporty.” A smile played on her lips. “I bet you really like playing with your balls.”
I focused on my screen again.
She laughed, and it was a nice sound. Deeper and rustier than you’d expect from someone her size. “Oh, come on, I’m teasing. Are you hungry?” she asked.
“No,” I said, pride talking over my ravenous stomach. Right away, my stomach chose revenge by groaning very loudly.
“I think your belly disagrees.” She gestured toward the house. “Do you want to come in and eat with me?”
“And invade your vacation space? I wouldn’t dare.”
She held up her hands. “Let’s call a truce so you don’t waste away out here.”
“No, thanks.”
For a second, she seemed startled that I’d turned her down. Then she shrugged. “Okay. Suit yourself.”
An apology was on the tip of my tongue—why was I letting her get to me like this?—but she went back into the house without another word.
So it surprised me when, a few minutes later, she came out with a bowl heaped with pasta in red sauce, topped with Parmesan cheese and a sprig of basil. She set the bowl at my feet along with a napkin and fork. “Here.”
I glanced down at it. “Is that my doggie bowl?”
“You don’t want it?” She bent down and picked it up again.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want it.”
“So you do want it?”
“Yes.”
She tilted her head, like something had just occurred to her. “How bad?”
“What?”
“How bad do you want it?”
I swallowed hard. So bad. “I don’t know.”
“Does it look good to you?”
“Yes.”
“Does it smell good?” She sort of swung the bowl past my face, so the aroma of tomatoes and garlic and basil wafted toward me.
“Yes.”
“It tastes good too,” she said, almost flirtatiously. “I bet you haven’t eaten in a while.”
I was starting to sweat. Were we still talking about food? “What do you want me to say, Kelly? Please?”
“Hmm. Please is nice, but I was thinking maybe you could beg.”
“Beg? Like, on my knees?”
“Oh, good idea.” Smiling, she brandished the pasta again. “You want this, you get on your knees and beg.”
She had a huge grin on her face, and yet I couldn’t tell if she was joking. “I’m not getting on my knees for spaghetti, Kelly. Is this some kind of game?”
“What, you don’t like being told that you can’t have what you want unless you do it on someone else’s terms?” Her eyes pinned mine, driving home her point.
I opened my mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. Focused on my screen again. “Forget it. I’m not hungry.”
She stood there for another moment, saying nothing. Then she bent down, put the bowl at my feet again, and went into the house.
I thought about not eating it to make a point, but after precisely five seconds, I picked it up and scarfed down every single bite.
It was delicious.
I decided I would have begged.
FOUR
kelly
I couldn’t believe I’d said that.
Beg on his knees?
What was wrong with me?
I made a beeline for the kitchen counter and picked up my glass of wine. Took a huge gulp.