Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“Huh, blackberry, just like me,” I mutter to myself as I spin around the jam jar in his fridge. Hardly breaking news.
He has an open-concept floor plan so I can see everything at once. His gleaming kitchen with marble countertops and stainless-steel appliances is a chef’s dream. Next to the kitchen is a formal dining room with a big oak table and six chairs.
His living room is a typical bachelor pad with a big-screen TV and leather recliners. On his coffee table is his guitar and a handful of sticky notes, all with various phrases scratched on them.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, startling me. I look around guiltily for Zac, relieved when he’s not nearby. I already have a string of alarms set two hours apart on my phone to wake him. It means I won’t sleep too much, but seeing as his head injury is my fault in the first place, I can’t complain. The text message is from my best friend, Sadie. She’s also on the mountain, helping with the storm cleanup.
Sadie: Checking in. Did you find Betsy?
Dotty: …Not quite.
Sadie: Ooh, did you find a better story?
I pause and hesitate. Sadie is dating Barrett, one of Zac’s older brothers. They’ll be worried if they hear that he’s been hit by a car. At least, I think families are supposed to be that way. Mine isn’t that great, but I know from what Sadie’s said that the Maple siblings are all close. They really seem to love each other.
Finally, I settle on a simple text.
Dotty: Something like that. I’ll tell you at book club. How are you doing?
Sadie: We’re tired but good. Reception is spotty. Should be back soon.
Dotty: Can’t wait to see you. *kiss emoji*
I wait for a few minutes, but I don’t get any more text messages from Sadie. I continue to search through Zac’s living room and eventually, his music room. While he seems to have a serious habit of scrawling ideas on sticky notes, there’s no deep, dark secret here.
“You’re the most boring celebrity I’ve ever met,” I mutter to myself as I slip into one of his flannel shirts. I wish I had my comfortable pajamas, but this will have to do. Not that I mind this. It’s soft and smells like Zac.
Despite the fact that I’m a big girl, the material drapes down to my mid-thigh. It’s decent so I skip the sweatpants of his I grabbed and opt for the shirt.
I roll up the sleeves and make his couch with a couple of extra blankets. I snagged them from his linen closet. Finally, I settle onto my makeshift bed and drift into a dreamless sleep.
I’m woken what feels like only minutes later by the alarm on my phone. I rouse Zac, making sure he knows who and where he is. I hope that’s good enough, especially because I’m so tired.
By the third alarm of the night, I’m so exhausted I give up on sleeping in the living room. Instead, I crawl into Zac’s bed next to him. Hopefully, when he wakes up tomorrow morning, he won’t feel like having me arrested for all the trouble I’ve caused him.
Chapter 3
Zac
Something tickles my nose once then twice. The third time I finally open my eyes, and I’m staring down at the most beautiful woman in the world. She’s facing me, her body wrapped around mine like she can’t get close enough.
I brush her long hair from my face, drinking in the sight of her as memories from yesterday come back to me. It’s patchy, but I think we were together outside. Dotty. Her name is Dotty, and she was leaning over me and looking like an angel. It was the best moment of my life. Then we saw Martha, though I can’t quite remember why.
All I know is that this woman in my bed is perfect. Her rosy cheeks and plump lips fill my brain with a dozen fantasies. I want her to open her eyes and see if they are as blue as I think they were.
She sighs softly in her sleep, and I’m suddenly very aware that she’s in my shirt. The buttons are straining as they try to contain her ample chest. I have an overwhelming urge to flick them open and let her tits spill free. I want to lick her all over, taste every delicious inch of her skin. I want to know her with my tongue, my hands, and my cock.
Her stomach growls and in her sleep, she frowns.
Mine. The primal word is a growl that escapes my lips unbidden. She’s hungry, and that’s unacceptable. My woman wants for nothing.
Even though I hate leaving her, I carefully untangle my limbs from hers. I roll out of bed, feeling pain shoot through my hip. I already know it’s bruised and purple. No sense looking at it again.