Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
But that was it.
I mean... that was it was a pretty messed up way to phrase it, but it wasn't any worse than that.
I had tried to take a deep breath in relief and had the stabbing of my ribs to remind me that while I hadn't had my face too damaged, I was messed up elsewhere.
"Wasn't lookin' at the bruises," he said effortlessly, truthfully and I found I had to look away from him lest the reaction I felt to that become clear to him. He let me have my silence for a long moment, both of us watching the overly manicured man with the hair that was so gelled it looked like a Ken doll hold up a frying pan as some idiot babbled on over the phone lines. I hated home shopping shows. I hated the callers more.
"In the market for frying pans?" Duke asked, obviously as clumsy at small talk as I was.
"I'm new here," I explained instead, waving a helpless hand at the remote. "I don't know where any of the good channels are."
"Chances are," he said, reaching for it, "wherever you are, the good shit is never on the single or double digit channels. Want a movie?" he asked, going onto the On-demand menu and clicking through the subscription channels.
"Suspense," I said immediately, always being my poison though not knowing why. I hated that antsy, edge-of-the-seat feeling. It annoyed me. It made me angry. But, boy, it was always worth it once you got to the grand finale of things. I put the rest of my bagel down and reached for the rest of the coffee drink as I tried to sit back, momentarily forgetting about my back before pain made me let out a loud hiss.
Duke's head snapped to me, wincing. "We have more of the pain medicine if you want," he offered.
"Not just yet," I said, knowing I would eventually reach for it if nothing else but to get some decent sleep. "Hey," I said when his attention turned back to the TV. "What time and day is it?" I asked, needing to know.
"Same day. More or less. It's two in the morning."
I nodded as he picked the newest movie of the bunch and put it on. Despite having seen it in theaters, I watched as if it was the most exciting thing in the world. Mainly so I didn't keep noticing things.
Things about him.
Like the fact that he had kicked out of his big, clunky combat boots and stretched his long legs out on the bed and sat back against the headboard as he ate. Then when he was finished, he raised his hands up, cocking them out as he rested his hands behind his head. I also tried to ignore the way his already massive chest seemed to spread when he did that and how his arms strained against the material of his tee and his tattoos danced as he moved. I also tried to not notice how the smell of his room that, earlier, I had found so appealing, was all over him.
Why I was noticing those things? Yeah, that was the question.
I was going to go ahead and blame the fact that I had just been through a pretty big ordeal after already uprooting my life and moving somewhere new and all the stress that came with worrying about my grandmother and making sure things went to plan or I would run through my savings way too fast.
Yeah, that was definitely it.
I was just stressed.
And, apparently, when I got stressed, I felt weird attraction to a virtual stranger.
"Penny," Duke's voice called, a little low.
My head jerked in his direction to find him watching me. "What?"
"You've been watching a blank screen for five minutes," he told me and when I looked to the TV, sure enough, it was black. "Want to talk about it?" I shook my head. "Want some Vikes and sleep?" he asked and I felt myself nodding without even thinking about it.
He nodded and jumped up, taking the tray and putting it on the dresser. He grabbed the pill bottle off the nightstand and handed me two pills.
With that, he let me settle in as he went into the bathroom. A minute later, the water of the shower turned on. I listened to that and did not, absolutely did not, think about him under that spray. Because women who were just beaten and dumped like a dead dog on the side of the road did not have sexual thoughts about the man who held her down while she got stitches. Even if that man smelled like comfort and security and that his deep voice whispered reassurances to you while you cried.
Even if.
Because that was not normal. Right?
I fell asleep before I could decide if maybe I was going to need therapy after all was said and done.