Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“They’re almost dry,” I said, barely saying it loud enough for anyone to hear.
He gave a single nod, smiled, and walked away.
I closed my eyes and prayed Hank would get here soon. I just needed my car, a new tire, and a quick escape from Nate Shaw’s house.
Chapter Three
NATHAN
Haven couldn’t have gotten out of my bedroom fast enough, and I thanked the stars above for that. Having her in my room, near my bed, nearly drove me mad. I had to clench my fists to keep myself from reaching out and touching her. She looked hot as hell in my clothes, even with them hanging off her small-framed body.
I followed Haven back downstairs. She slipped into the laundry room to check on her clothes. I told myself to keep walking but instead, stopped and watched her like an idiot. She turned, and our eyes met. Haven swallowed hard before finally saying almost on a whisper, “They’re almost dry.”
The best I could do was smile before I turned and walked toward the kitchen. My stomach growled, and I glanced at the clock. It was five.
“Um, if I can change my tire some place out of the rain, I can get out of your hair.”
I opened the refrigerator to look for something to eat and poked my head around it to look at her. “How did you learn how to change a tire?”
She laughed. “I had to learn to do all kinds of things after my father left. My grandfather used to tell me I needed to learn those types of things so I wasn’t stranded on the side of the road.”
She paused, then smiled as if thinking of something funny.
“I guess it didn’t work because that was how you found me not once, but twice.”
“Yeah, but honestly, there was no way you or I could have changed that flat tire. Not in that storm. Plus, not only was your regular tire flat, but even your spare was flat. I’m not sure that there is a manual or YouTube video to help with that trifecta.”
Haven nodded and then looked at the food I had taken out. “What are you doing?”
I had taken out eggs, an onion, bell peppers, and an avocado. “I was going to make us something to eat. I’m starving. You?”
As if just realizing it, her hand went to her stomach, and she chuckled. “My stomach just growled. Omelet?”
“If that sounds good to you.”
“You cook?”
I looked at her with a disbelieving expression.
“What makes you think I can’t cook? ’Cause I’m a guy?”
“No,” she replied, her arms folding over her chest. “You just seem like the go out to dinner or order takeout kind of guy. Not I’ll whip you up an omelet.”
I grinned. I knew the following words I was about to say would piss her off. “I’ve been complimented plenty of times for my cooking skills.”
Haven snarled her lip. “By who? Your grandmother?”
I laughed. There it was. Damn, she was easy to provoke. “By other women…and my grandmother.”
“Oh, you mean the ones you sleep with? How nice of you to stick around long enough to cook them breakfast.”
Was that a hint of jealousy I heard in her voice? “It’s usually in the middle of the night. I’m not a hang around and wait for morning kind of guy.”
Haven rolled her eyes and then looked around, obviously wanting to change the subject. “Bread?”
“That large cabinet in the corner is the pantry.”
She walked over, opened the door, and stepped into the large walk-in pantry. Two seconds later, she was walking out with the loaf of bread. Turning to face me, she asked, “Do you want me to help cut up anything?”
I pointed to the onion. “I hate cutting them up, so if you want to, I won’t argue.”
She looked like she was about to object, and when I raised a brow, she straightened her shoulders and said, “Knife, please.”
I handed her a knife and watched as she started peeling and cutting the onion. Her blinking was so rapid that I had to wonder how she could even see to cut.
“Getting to you?”
“Nope, not at all,” Haven said.
Standing next to her, I started to cut up the bell peppers. Haven was trying to discreetly wipe her eyes and keep from sniffling. I couldn’t help it, a small chuckle slipped free.
“You sound like it’s getting to you.”
She sniffled again. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Poking my head around her, I laughed as I saw tears streaming down her face. Haven quickly wiped them away and nudged me with her elbow. “Go away and let me cut this!”
“That is exactly why I hate cutting onions. My mother told me once to cut them by the running water.”
Reaching for the faucet, Haven turned on the water, and I laughed again. This time louder. I could hear her sighing before she resumed cutting.