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)
A post-sex, non-relationship blueprint as it were.
A third thump against the wood of her front door resonated through the small house. The sound rang with finality and—she fancied—irritation.
“Oh my God, relax,” she muttered. Gideon Hawthorne radiated an air of chill and ease around others, while with her he was always this impatient, rude dick.
Beth tucked an errant strand of hair—an escapee from her sloppy ponytail—behind her ear. She ran suddenly damp palms down her apron, threw back her shoulders, and marched the short distance to her front door. She could see his broad outline through the stained-glass panes on the upper half of the door.
The tiny three-bedroom hundred-year-old house had previously belonged to Beth’s much-loved gran, who—uncaring of the house’s historical value—had happily retrofitted and redesigned the closed off interior. She’d kept quaint features like the original hardwood floors, the Victorian front door with its stained-glass window panes, as well as the beautifully detailed stained glass in the top panes of the arched windows in the living room. But the rest of the house had been completely modernized with an open plan kitchen and living area, as well as up to code electricals and plumbing.
No point living in the past, Bethie. One day this house will be yours and a modern young woman needs a modern home.
Granny June had died less than six months after the renovations had been completed.
Beth shook herself. She was already not in the best frame of mind, no need to compound that even further with thoughts of her gran. She kept her eyes determinedly averted from Spock’s empty corner, and composed herself when the thought of her cranky departed pet sent another stab of pain through her heart. She wasn’t about to let Gideon see her so vulnerable again.
She unlocked the front door and swung it inward, and caught him with his arm raised as if to knock again.
“’Bout time,” he grumbled, and her eyebrows shot up.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting, your exaltedness. Contrary to what you may believe, my entire world doesn’t revolve around you.”
He brooded down at her, the only way she could think to describe that intense moody look he pinned her with. He was looming over her, head bent toward her, with his shaggy hair flopping forward to frame his disgustingly good-looking face attractively.
His chiseled jaw was rough with about three days’ growth of beard, the stubble darker in the shallow indentations on his cheeks and the sexy groove above the bow of his top lip.
He was wearing his usual uniform of t-shirt, faded, ripped jeans and sneakers. His hands were thrust into the front pockets of his jeans, which naturally drew her eye to the substantial bulge irresistibly plumped and showcased by the placement of his hands.
Her throat went dry and she tried not to blush as she recalled exactly what lay beneath that laidback ensemble.
“Stop staring at my cock.”
The words, curt, yet coated in something almost like affection, startled her into jerking her gaze back up to his and she felt her face go fiery hot. He was observing her with a crooked tilt to his lips and a sparkle in his eyes.
“I w-wasn’t.”
“That’s a blatant lie, Lizzy. You were totally perving over my lovely laddie lumps.”
She choked back an unexpected laugh and her eyes burned with the effort not to look away first.
“Seriously? Laddie lumps?”
“Lovely laddie lumps,” he reminded and she groaned.
“God, what have I done to deserve this? Why are you even here?”
“You really want to have this conversation out on the porch?”
“We’re not exactly on the porch.” She was inside and he was on her doorstep.
“You know that Aunty Naz is probably watching our every move, right?”
Beth swallowed a sigh. Nazli—“call me Aunty Naz”—Mohamed lived next door to Gideon. A quick glance across the road confirmed that the old lady was wandering around her overgrown garden, ostensibly to trim her out-of-control bougainvillea, even though she kept nonchalantly glancing over at Beth’s porch. The elderly woman, while sweet and generous, was an incorrigible gossip. Worse, because Aunty Naz and Granny June had been good friends, the woman felt like she had a vested interest in Beth’s life. She probably knew exactly what time they’d come home last night and she almost certainly knew that Beth had spent the night with Gideon.
“Crap,” she muttered beneath her breath.
While Beth rarely mingled with the neighbors, she also wasn’t comfortable with the idea of having everyone on the cul-de-sac knowing her business. Regardless of her affection for Beth and loyalty toward Granny June, Aunty Naz was incapable of holding her tongue.
Beth stepped aside reluctantly, and allowed Gideon entry into her home. The place immediately felt tiny with his bulk crowding the space.
“Jesus, Lizzy, it looks like a bomb dropped in here. I always figured your house would be neat as a pin. But this is—”