Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
What had they been talking about?
Oh yes, of course…
She coughed—giving herself time to think—and his unnerving gaze bounced up to her face when she spoke. “I told Cat we shared the Uber because it made sense to do so. And I may have said something about less carbon emissions.”
He snorted, and then tried to cover it up with a quick sip of coffee.
“And she believed that?”
“Well, when she pushed, I sarcastically asked her if she thought we’d gone back to your place and—uh—and shagged each other senseless all night long.”
That startled another rich chuckle from him. One that seemed to come from deep within his belly.
“That was pretty much her response as well,” she confirmed, taking a sip from her coffee.
“Genius. Hit her with the unlikely truth and get it out of the way. I never thought I’d say this, Lizzy-bit, but I like the way your mind works.” The compliment settled like a warm glow in her chest, and for a second she almost liked him. Until he ruined the moment by adding, “sometimes.”
“Anyway,” she continued, smoothly hiding her disgruntlement from him. “I told her that we shared a ride because it made sense. But it doesn’t mean we’re friends now. It was just convenient.”
“It would be equally convenient to share a ride back.”
“I don’t know. That may be expecting them to suspend their disbelief a little too much.”
“We’re going to the same place, at the same time. And neither of us have our rides.”
“Plus it’s cheaper?” she asked with a raised brow, and his lips pursed as he pinned her with his piercing stare.
“That too. I’m an impoverished student type, Lizzy. I can’t afford to take cabs all the time.”
“The gigolo gig not paying so well anymore?” she asked under her breath, and he cocked his head quizzically.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. You’re hardly a student, though, are you?” She knew for a fact that he was nearly thirty-one years old—three years older than she was. His student days were far behind him.
“Yeah, but I am impoverished.”
She shook her head in disgust, again wondering why Cam was friends with such a slacker. She knew that the two men had met sometime during adolescence, and had gone on seemingly wildly different career paths. Cam was a successful software architect, who worked for a top tier security firm, and Gideon did…well whatever Gideon did.
“So, I’m expected to pay for the ride?”
His gaze went cold and she remembered his equally strong negative reaction when she’d accused him of freeloading this morning.
Sensitive subject.
It appeared that the man had some pride after all.
“No, Scrappy. I’ll pay for my half of the fucking ride. I don’t need your charity. Or you know what? Forget about it, it was a stupid idea. We can barely exchange a civil word. Our friends won’t care if we never share a ride again…”
“Gideon, it’s fine. We can share a ride. You’re right. It makes sense.”
His body language immediately changed and he went tense. “What did you say?”
“We can share a ride?” she repeated warily, not sure she liked this oddly alert version of the usually laidback Gideon.
“The other thing.”
“It’s fine?”
His lips kicked up at one corner, giving him a decidedly evil appearance. “No, Lizzy,” he said with exaggerated patience. “The other thing.”
She felt her lips purse and her shoulders draw up. He was a truly insufferable specimen of a man.
“It makes sense,” she framed the words with her own version of exaggerated patience. Slowly, carefully, even a little loudly. Because she knew exactly what he wanted to hear. And she knew he knew that she knew it. But she was so not going to repeat it.
She shouldn’t have said it in the first place.
“You said I was right, Lizzy,” he reminded her with a lazy grin.
“Did I?” she asked vaguely. “I can’t say that I recall using those exact words.”
“You did and it was glorious.”
“I can’t be responsible for your delusions, Gideon. I’m sure you believe you heard what you heard. It doesn’t matter. I agreed, we should share a ride. So…” She put her coffee cup on the low table between them, and pushed to her feet. “I’ll see you later then.”
She grabbed the mug from his grasp and was in the kitchen before he could react or even verbalize a protest.
“Well, okay, I guess that’s my cue to leave.”
“Your cue came ten minutes ago, before you even entered my home,” Beth told him and he chuckled, once again seeming genuinely entertained by her. He cast an eye around the place as he headed for the front door.
“You don’t need help with anything?” he asked. The question was filled with so much reluctance, she wasn’t sure why he’d even bothered to ask.
Oh God, she needed so much help with that salad. But Gideon Hawthorne was the last man she would ever ask for assistance.