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)
“That’s not why I’m doing this. I don’t care if he likes me or not,” Beth said, but it was futile. Aunty Naz was stubborn and gossipy. By tomorrow it would be all over the cul-de-sac that Gideon was Beth’s “boyfriend”.
Beth internalized a groan and obediently exited the house. The old woman followed close on her heels. Beth turned to face Aunty Naz once she was out on the sidewalk again.
“I put in enough for both of you,” Aunty Naz informed. “You can share it with him.”
There would be no sharing of treats with Gideon, now or ever, but Beth knew better than to protest. “Thanks, Aunty Naz.”
“And you tell Gideon I want my plastic back,” she said, wagging her finger sternly.
“I will,” Beth said obediently.
“Good, now go. And don’t be too naughty.”
“Aunty Naz, there’s nothing going on between us.” Beth tried one last time. “He’s not even a friend.”
“I do have eyes in my head, my girl. Are you telling me I’m blind? Or maybe stupid?”
Beth sighed and shook her head, there was no arguing with the easily offended, cantankerous old woman who ruled her family with an iron fist. Sometimes it was simply best to just go with it.
“I’ll see you soon, Aunty Naz. I’m heading out to the mall later if you need anything.”
“I have a list; I’ll send it on WhatsApp.”
Beth nodded and—unable to put it off any longer—threw back her shoulders and determinedly walked the short distance to the house next door, painfully aware of Aunty Naz’s eyes on her the entire time.
After an awkward juggling act with the containers, she managed to get the waist-high wrought iron gate open and before she knew it, she was staring at the closed front door. The whole house was still shut tight. Curtains drawn; windows closed. If not for the bike parked in the driveway, she would have thought he wasn’t home but she knew he hadn’t left since last night.
She shifted the weight of the containers to her left arm and lifted her right to knock tentatively—a far cry from Gideon’s impatient rapping at her door—then waited.
Nothing.
She tried again, two more knocks, a little louder this time.
Nope.
She eyed the brass door knocker for a moment.
Why not?
It was louder than she’d anticipated, but it still wasn’t as rude as Gideon’s authoritative thumping and doorbell harassment. She used it again.
Why was he taking so long to answer? Did he know it was her? Was he avoiding her? She chewed the inside of her cheek, her arm falling back to her side as she eyed the large porch curiously. His workout equipment stood off to the left, everything neatly stowed away. She toed one of the imposing-looking black dumbbells on the floor beside the door, but it wouldn’t budge.
A quick glance across the road toward her office window verified—to her relief—that you couldn’t see into her house through the lace curtains.
Oh goodie, just the confirmation she needed to continue her shameless spying on her neighbor.
There was a rocking chair, with a small table beside it, to the right of the door. Perhaps she could leave the cake and treats on that?
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, considering her options.
She would try knocking one more time and then leave everything on the chair. She’d call him once she got home to alert him to the fact that she’d left everything out here.
She lifted the knocker one more time when the door jerked inward. Because her hand was on the knocker, the abrupt pull on the door yanked her forward. She lost her balance, but thankfully a pair of strong hands on her shoulders almost instantly restored her balance. The top Tupperware container slid from the pile and fell to the floor between their feet.
They both stood for a second staring at the upside down, thankfully still sealed, plastic box.
“Why the fuck are you pounding at my door at this godawful hour of the morning, Lizzy?” Gideon growled around the blue toothbrush in his mouth. He released her shoulders to crouch lithely and pick up the container.
“It’s ten o’clock, how was I supposed to know you’d only just woken up?”
It was clear he’d just woken up, his hair was a mess, his jaw bristling with blue-black stubble. And, of course, there was the toothbrush. He was wearing only a pair of gray butt—and other places—hugging jogger sweatpants with tapered, calf-emphasizing pant legs.
No shirt, no socks.
God, he looked hot as hell.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a second before determinedly lifting her gaze from the unmistakable outline of his penis through the shamelessly clingy fleecy fabric of his sweatpants to his face.
Not better.
His eyes were heavy lidded with sleep, his jaw bristling with tempting dark shadow. His hair looked like he had just shoved a hand through it, leaving it standing on end.