Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“So.” She sniffles and turns to me. “Now that we know I’m not going to post about you, you can just take me home. I think I need to just… relax for a bit. Thanks for getting me out of there. Really.” She leans away from me and lightly taps the driver on the shoulder. “I live off of Lake Washington on twenty-seven Cobble Street Way.”
I smile to myself. “Wow, we’re in the same neighborhood.”
“We are?” She frowns. “How would I not know that?”
I shrug. “Maybe you need to watch more TMZ?”
“Okay, guy who probably Googles himself.” She laughs. “I’m busy.”
“Ah, so was it the business that had that shit ex-fiancé going at it behind your back or was it the fact that—”
She glares.
“Bad timing, yup, reading the room or um car, yeah let’s drop you off, but you have to let me in. I did promise you a good time.”
Her mouth drops open. “I’m not sleeping with you!”
“WHAT!” I say loudly. “Damn it, my entire night is completely ruined now! I was going to invite myself in for a drink, pretend that I had to use the restroom, strip naked, then toss myself onto your bed with a red rose between my teeth. Fuck, and they say romance is dead.”
She cracks a smile. “Sure way to get arrested.”
“Ah, wouldn’t that make good headlines…”
“The rose in the mouth is a little much.” She nods. “And probably embarrassing to tell the nightly news, but maybe if you covered your small appendage with it, I might find the rose at least enticing.”
“Shots. Fired.” I laugh. “Wow! Don’t ever judge a guy’s dick within an hour of meeting him. That’s just harsh, and it’s cold outside.”
“It’s summer.”
“Right, a cold summer night.”
She raises an eyebrow. “It’s seventy.”
“The rain makes the air moist.”
She scrunches up her nose. “I don’t like that word.”
“Wet.” I lick my lips. “I’ll use wet instead.”
Her eyes move to my mouth as the SUV gets off the freeway and starts making its way through our neighborhood.
She gulps and looks down at her hands. “I’ll admit wet is better.”
“Wetter is better,” I correct with a smirk.
She nudges me with her elbow. “Seriously, thank you. I had to get out of there.”
“Everyone needs a rescue every once in a while, even if it’s from some horribly talked about rockstar or—” I’m cut off when the car takes an abrupt turn to the right. She falls into my lap, her hand slams onto my dick. We both freeze. She looks down but must be in shock because she doesn’t move her hand.
My hands grip her shoulders. Her eyes scream that she’s horrified, but her hand screams something else entirely since it’s still locked in place.
I smirk. “You know, if you needed to tap out, you could have just used your words…”
She jerks her hand away.
“It’s Scarlett, right?” I grin and lean forward as the car pulls to a full stop. “Invite me in.”
Her eyes dart away from mine, then behind me like she’s looking for an escape. Well, I tried.
She reaches for my arm and squeezes it. “Just don’t upset the dog.”
“The dog,” I repeat. “How would I upset the dog?”
“He’s half-blind, so he gets really freaked out with new people, and I don’t have any meat for you to give him to tame him.”
I laugh. “Oh, I’ve got meat—Son of a bitch, I need to stop talking, no more sexual innuendo, I won’t scare the dog. Any more pets I should worry about?”
“Chuck Norris.” She nods. “But he’s in his tank, so he should be fine.”
“Um, why would a fish not be in its tank? Do you have walking fish? And if you do, science has done us wrong, on an unfathomable scale.”
“Turtle.” She laughs lightly. “He’s a red-eared slider and I take him for walks if you must know.” She reaches for the car door, but I grab her wrist and pull her back. I really want to go inside, but I also really like talking with her. It’s the first time I’ve had a decent conversation that hasn’t given me a headache in the last few years.
“Can we revisit turtle walking?” I inquire, genuinely wondering who the hell walks their freaking turtle.
“I thought you wanted to go in.” She starts to tug away, and the moon hits her cheek just right and I’m spellbound. This is my moment. If I let her go, I may not be able to follow, she may lose her nerve, I may lose mine, and I really don’t want this strange conversation to end.
I gently pull her back. “You drive a hard bargain, but I’m curious by nature. How does one take a turtle for a walk? Do you have a leash? Does he need one? Why Chuck Norris? What about predators? The sun? Snow? His all around slowness? I have so many questions. Do you have a rabbit too? Do they race? Is it legal to bet on it?”