Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Not have to lock my doors …
“I’ll see you when I get home,” I say.
“Later.”
“Bye.”
I end the call.
It takes just a few minutes to get everything put away. I do one final check for anything that needs to go home with me and then turn toward the door. But as soon as I pivot, I spy a car pulling up in the driveway.
“Who is that?” I mumble.
It comes to an abrupt stop next to my truck … and then Pippa climbs out.
Her legs are long and tanned, capped with a pair of light-colored shorts. A black tank top stretches across her chest and highlights her curves.
All of them.
She raps against the door. I clear my throat so I don’t sound as thirsty as I am.
“Come in,” I say.
She pushes the door open and steps inside. Her gaze finds mine moments before her eyes narrow.
“Whoa,” I say, laughing. “What’s that look for?”
“I can’t take it anymore.”
Huh? I hold out my hands. “Can’t take what?”
“Jess, if you’re fucking with me, stop. I’m ready to have a breakdown over this because my email stopped allowing me to unsend messages, and I don’t know what to do now. I’m in limbo while I wait for you to respond, and you’re not responding, and it’s been all day. Okay?”
I set my toolbox on the floor. “First of all, breathe.”
She inhales a lungful of air.
“Good. Now what the fuck are you talking about?”
She exhales as her cheeks turn pink.
Holy fuck, she’s beautiful.
She’s naturally pretty, yet not perfect. There’s a scar on the side of her neck from a run-in with a fence when she was a teenager. One of her eyebrows was cut at some point in the past, and her hair refuses to grow in the crevice. A slight cowlick lifts her hair just off-center on the right side of her head and all of it somehow works to make her even more attractive.
She’s perfect for me.
Her chin lifts. Her eyes are wild. They blaze with a fieriness that makes my cock hard.
“Do you check your email?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Have you checked it today?”
“Uh, no. I’ve been working all day.”
She clears her throat, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “May I ask you to let me see your emails, please?”
Excuse me?
I press my lips together, curiosity getting the best of me, and pull my phone out of my pocket.
“Jess?”
“No, you may not see my emails.”
Her hands go to her hips. “Please?”
“What are you up to, Pip?”
She reaches for my phone in a quick, bold move. Unfortunately for her, I’m quicker. I hold it up in the air and effectively out of her reach.
“Please, don’t look at them. At least not with me standing here,” she says, hopping a whole foot off the ground to try to reach the device.
I chuckle. “What did you do?”
“Give it to me.” She hops again. “Now.”
“Not a chance.” I swipe the screen and find my email app as she tries to tug my arm down. “Will you stop it?”
“Jess,” she says, fake crying. She stops hopping. “Wait.”
I laugh at her little pout. “You are so fucking cute.”
“I hate you.”
“You do not.”
The app opens, and I scan my inbox. It’s the third message from the top that catches my attention.
Plum, Pippa
Re: SEEKING AN EX-HUSBAND
My body stills—everything except my heart. That organ thumps so hard that I wonder if Pippa can hear it.
She looks up at me through her thick lashes like she’s not sure whether to run, cry, or laugh.
Sweet, silly girl.
But I won’t let you off the hook that easy.
“What’s this?” I ask, teasing her.
“Don’t be a dick.”
I chuckle. “I sense you’re flustered. Why don’t you go have a seat somewhere while I read my emails?”
“Keep it up, and I’ll send that email to Banks.”
I dip my head and lift my brows. “I would highly suggest you don’t do that.”
She grins, biting her bottom lip. You better watch it …
“Why not?” she asks like an innocent little thing she’s not.
I could play this back and forth with her all night. And on any normal day, I’d love to. But on a normal day, I wouldn’t have received an email from her that looks like a wanted ad.
Nah, Pip. We’re not getting sidetracked this time.
“Do you want me to read this thing, or do you want to tell me what it’s about?” I ask. “Because I won’t open it if you want to talk about it instead.”
She sighs and backs away. “What I didn’t want to do is deal with it face-to-face.”
“Then why are you here?”
She winces. “Because apparently I’m not good under pressure, and as I’m learning is my modus operandi, I’m rather impulsive when stressed.”
“Good to know.”
She hangs her head.
I touch her chin with the tip of my finger and lift her face to mine. Only after our eyes connect do I pull my hand away.