Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Teagan’s eyes narrow. Her jaw hardens, and the corner of her eye twitches. “Excuse me?”
Nodding, I turn to the girls. “She wrote one every day for a whole year. Some of them were a little . . . odd.” I turn back to her and tilt my head. “I never thought I’d meet a woman who’s actually turned on by watching me drink beer.”
Brit smiles. “I’d watch you drink beer.”
Teagan ignores her. “My love notes were nothing compared to your little collection from my trash.” She turns to the girls. “He saved old napkins and water bottles I drank from. Even little bits of my hair.”
The girls cover their mouths and take a few steps back.
I choke back a laugh, determined to keep a straight face. “You make it sound creepy.”
“We have to go,” Brit says. “But congrats to you two.”
“Yeah,” Jennifer says. “You’re a totally . . . special couple.” They walk away, and I can barely make out Brit telling her friend that they dodged a bullet. Teagan drains her drink as we watch them go.
“Little bits of your hair?” I ask. “Am I in love with you or planning to murder you and store your corpse in my freezer?”
“I’ve known guys with creepier tendencies,” she says. Standing, she holds out a hand to me and motions toward the crowded dance floor. “Come on. If we sit here, more women are going to want to talk. You dance, don’t you?”
“I think I have to if I want to save my reputation. I’m lucky those women aren’t local, or I’d never get another date.”
I don’t have much time to dwell on that thought. Teagan loops her hands behind my neck and rolls her hips to the song’s quick beat, and I can’t think of anything but her.
I’m stunned by the sudden press of her body into mine, and at first I’m not sure what to do with my hands. Sliding them behind her neck seems too junior high, but if they’re in her hair, I know I’ll be too tempted to tilt her face up so I can kiss her again. If I put them on her waist, they’re bound to roam south to cup the curves her little black dress shows off so well.
“You started this,” she whispers into my ear. “You’d better dance with me like it’s real, no matter how much you’re regretting it right now.”
I grunt in surprise. Regret is the furthest thing from my mind. “I didn’t want to scare you away,” I say, wrapping my arms around her waist to rest my hands at the small of her back.
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” She looks up into my eyes, and I wonder what’s going on in that head of hers. She turned so quiet and awkward over dinner. I thought it was because everyone was staring at us, but . . . maybe there was more to it.
Am I crazy to hope that she’s as attracted to me as I am to her? That she’s thought about it—fantasized about it—like I have?
I lean my forehead against hers but keep my eyes open so I can watch her as we dance. When the music transitions into Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years,” Teagan leans her head against my chest and sighs.
“You like this song?” I ask quietly.
She pulls away enough to look up and meet my eyes. “I just love love. Love is my favorite.” She giggle-snorts so loud that half a dozen people turn to stare, and I stare too. Teagan’s beautiful, but it’s always been her quick humor and open personality that have drawn me to her. I don’t care if this is fake. I’m going to enjoy every minute of this night.
I lose track of the drinks we have, the dances we share, and the women she politely sends away when they try to cut in. I imprint these moments on my mind—Teagan’s smiles, the brush of her hands across my back, the way she leans her head against my shoulder when the music turns slow.
When the party’s wrapping up and the guests are trickling out, she says, “I’m glad I wasn’t planning to drive.”
“Come with me for a minute?”
She studies my face for a beat. Is she thinking the same thing I am—as desperate to give into this chemistry as I am? She swallows hard, then nods.
I lead her out of the banquet room, down the hall, and into the vacant office by my brother’s. I press her against the wall. “I’m not ready for tonight to end.” My voice comes out husky, all the desire I feel tangled into those few words. I could blame the alcohol, but this buzz in my veins is more about her nearness than the beer I consumed.
“Me neither,” she says, her gaze dropping to my mouth. I don’t need any more invitation.