Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I have no idea how this morning is going to go, but I can’t find it in me to wish I had left last night. She never asked me to leave, but I could feel her desire to do just that in the stiffness of her body when I pulled her to my chest. Exhaustion won out, however, and she fell asleep in my arms.
I grind my teeth, thinking about her crying last night and what an utter asshole Barrett was. The man has a formal education. He should know better than to deliver news the way he did.
There isn’t a single thing I can do about Barrett right now, so I shove him from my mind. There’s a sexy-as-hell woman somewhere in this house, and I have every intention of getting her beneath me again.
She enters the room just as I stand. She barely even looks up from her coffee cup before pulling my folded clothes from the top of her dresser.
Placing them on the end of the bed, she keeps her distance. It’s clear she wants me gone, and maybe a different man would take the hint, but this is now twice this woman has been dismissive of me. It rankles.
I don’t know the best way to respond, and that has more to do with her being closed off and not letting anyone get close to her than anything else.
She opens up for me when I have her naked and our skin is touching, and the way her simple cotton robe is teasing her thighs makes me want that exact scenario.
I walk across the room, reaching for her. She side-steps me, placing her cup of coffee on the dresser before standing in the doorway of her bathroom.
She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
She shakes her head, a disappointed look on her face, before disappearing into the room and closing the door behind her. The echo of the lock clicking into place is just one more slap in the face.
I have no way of knowing if her disappointment is in herself or if she’s placing that blame on me. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a little of both.
Annoyed, I grab my shirt and pull it over my head before shoving my legs so hard into my boxer briefs, I hear threads snap. My slacks are more of a struggle because they’re less willing to be abused.
I know I should leave once my boots are on, but that bone-deep annoyance I have for being dismissed has already eaten a hole inside of me.
I cross her room, intent on my own form of justice in the form of drinking her damn coffee.
The logo on the cup is for a cash advance loan place in El Paso. It’s warm in my hands when I lift it to my mouth. It should be no surprise that the woman is drinking plain black coffee.
I choke down the liquid, my spite stronger than my distaste for the harshness of the drink.
My eyes catch on a stack of mail, and although I know it’s absolutely none of my business, it doesn’t stop me from picking the top piece of paper up. I’d like to think that I wouldn’t pull mail from an envelope, but seeing as the documents are sitting on top of the envelope they were delivered in, I don’t have to make that choice today.
I shouldn’t have any feelings whatsoever about seeing HUXLEY AND CLAIRE KENNEDY at the top of the default letter, but the reminder of who she is is a slap in the face.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve told myself to stay away from her, but at this point, that voice is no longer a scream. It’s barely been a whisper since she started working at the bar, and I knew it would be. It’s why I avoided her for as long as I did.
My anger grows as I read the letter. This has to be why she needed the job at the bar.
The credit card company expresses its distaste in her lack of substantial payments. The letter reminds her that making minimum payments on such a high balance won’t get her any closer to paying the credit card off.
The woman is working herself into an early grave and for what? Because she can’t keep her spending under control?
She’s put me in a position where I’ve crossed a line no serviceman should’ve ever crossed because she buys a bunch of shit she probably doesn’t need.
I’m livid by the time she opens the bathroom door, but I won’t allow myself to get lost in the sight of her standing there in nothing but a thin towel.
“Why are you still here?” she snaps.
“I want you to explain this,” I tell her, holding up the paperwork like I have any business looking at it, much less confronting her.