Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
I slap his shoulder, then wince at the painful sting.
“You okay?”
“No. I burnt my house down. I have nothing to my name. My hands kill. My thigh kills. And I’m suddenly rooming with my childhood nemesis. Did I mention I have nothing to my name?”
Ben reaches over the center console and slides his hand over my good thigh. “I got you covered.”
“Yeah? How so?” I laugh, but it comes out a bit manic. My clothes, my computer, my phone, everything left of my mother. . . it’s all gone.
“Hannah.”
“Hannah?”
“Yep. That one is resourceful.”
I raise my brows, skeptical. Seems a bit farfetched since she’s the only one who understands my feelings about him. Possibly for him. My expired feelings that have nothing to do with hating him anymore. “Hannah helped you?”
“It didn’t come without a price. Had to make a lot of promises. Stipulations. Trust me. This is going to be strictly a friend helping a friend situation. Otherwise, I get to make Levi a happy man.”
“Ew, what kind of happy? Never knew you swung—okay, sorry!” I squeal when he squeezes my thigh.
“Nice one. But no. I draw the line at playing brother/sister.” He wiggles his brows, warmth spreading across my cheeks. “I have something Levi’s been wanting for a long time. Hannah and I have a deal. I’ll be on my best behavior and not cross any lines. If I do, Levi becomes the proud new owner of a very expensive football, so don’t try anything on me. I’ll turn you down in a heartbeat. Nothing is worse than losing a collector’s item—oh! And I’m only allowed to keep you for forty-eight hours, then you’re going to stay with her.”
I can’t hide my surprise. “She said all this?”
“Yep. And for the record, if anyone in particular asks, you’re staying with her the whole time.” My brows perk up. “Had to fib a little to get your guard dog to back off. Hannah stepped in and talked to Jenny. Said with being the long-time friend and all, it was best you stayed with her.”
My jaw hits my lap. “Wait. . . Hannah lied?”
I lean back in my seat, shocked. Hannah doesn’t lie. She doesn’t even know how to lie.
“Levi really wants what I have. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made, which is sad. She clearly has no faith in me. Gonna be mad when I don’t break our terms, and she doesn’t get to save the day.”
A flutter of laughter falls off my tongue.
“What’s so funny?”
“That Hannah actually thinks she would get that football. I’m certainly not allowing you near me in that way, so it’s a good thing we’re on the same page. But seriously?” I throw my hands up. “You really think this is a good idea? Ben, we’re not—I mean, we basically hated each other, like, two seconds ago.”
“It’s a great idea. I need someone to feed my cat while I’m at work anyway.”
“You have a cat?”
“No, but if I did. . . Look, it’s an innocent arrangement. Forty-eight hours. How much can go wrong?”
“Um. . . we try to kill each other and one of us is successful? What happens if we start to fight?”
“We make up.” He winks at me.
“Ben—”
“We get over it. I’m done with all the past bullshit. I want you to be too. Can’t we just agree we were both shits when we were younger? That’s not who I am now. I can’t speak for you because you’re really feisty—shit, don’t hit the driver. So unsafe.”
“Ben!”
“Fine, consider this my olive branch. We make it through the next two days, then it’s safe to say we’re over our shit and can be friends.”
He peers at me, waiting for me to agree or disagree. What we have is no sense of reality. Resentment and attraction are not a good mix. “This is going to be a disaster.”
“The best kind of disaster, sweetheart. Plus, I promised. Perfect gentleman. No funny business. I’m allowed to change the bandages on your thigh and hands—oh, and sponge baths. But nothing more.” The thought of his hands grazing the insides of my thighs, even washing me, causes a chill to run up my spine.
Ugh. . . how am I agreeing to this mess? “Fine. But forty-eight hours max. And no sponge baths.”
He glances at me, wiggling his brows. “Your loss. I’m a good scrubber. Gentle when I need to be, rougher when asked.”
I’m ashamed as heat rushes to my cheeks. “Gross. Don’t make me open the door and throw myself out. Being splattered on the highway sounds like a better time.” I turn my head toward the window, hiding my smirk.
The rest of the ride is quiet. He takes a work call, allowing me the time to calm down. Too bad it doesn’t help since he starts talking shop, which makes him even more appealing.