Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
I nod. “And I already know the electrical is out of code. All the drywall has to come out.”
“But I see it.” He wanders through the lobby toward the grand staircase, where he runs his hand over the intricately carved bannister. “With the right touch, and enough money, it’s got potential.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. Teeming with potential.”
“I know this sounds dumb,” I say, taking a seat at the foot of the stairs, “but when I first set eyes on this place, I had this image in my head. Guests sitting on the veranda in rocking chairs, sipping wine, and watching the tide roll in. I saw it so clearly.”
“It’s not dumb.” Cooper sits beside me.
I feel no animosity from him, as if we’re almost friends again. Except for the same magnetic tug begging me to run my fingers through his hair.
“When I put a salvaged piece of wood on my bench, I don’t have a plan for what it’ll be. I just sit with it. Wait for it to express itself. Then it practically builds itself in my mind, and I’m following along.”
I bite my lip. “My parents aren’t going to be happy about this.”
Lately it doesn’t take much to set my father off. Most of it is work stress, but it seems as if he’s engaged in constant battle about one thing or another. Probably where I get my combative side. Thing is, when the battles end badly, his frustration tends to manifest in being loudly disappointed in me.
“Who the hell cares?” Cooper scoffs.
“Yeah, easy for you to say.”
“I mean it. Since when do you care about what anyone else has to say?”
“You don’t understand how hard it is to get out from under their thumb. They run practically every part of my life.”
“Because you let them.”
“No, but—”
“Look. In the time I’ve known you, you’ve mostly been a stubborn, opinionated pain in the ass.”
I laugh, admitting to myself that most of our conversations have devolved into stalemate arguments. “It’s not my fault you’re always wrong.”
“Watch it, Cabot,” he says with a playfully threatening glare. “Seriously, though. You’ve got your shit together better than most people I know. To hell with your parents approving. Be your own person.”
“You don’t know them.”
“I don’t have to know them. I know you.” He turns to face me fully, leveling me with serious eyes. “Mac, you are a force to be reckoned with. You don’t take shit, you take names. Don’t forget that.”
Damn it. Fucking damn it.
“Why do you have to do that?” I mutter, getting to my feet. I can’t control my muscles. I have to move, find some air.
“Do what?” He gets up, following me as I pace the room.
“Be so …” I gesture incoherently in his direction. “Like that.”
“You’ve lost me.”
It’s easier when he’s being a dick. Flirting, coming on strong. Arguing with me and calling me princess. It’s easier to dismiss him as just another hot guy with too much attitude, someone not to be taken seriously. Then he’s all sweet and kind and gets my head messed up. Drags my heart into it, kicking and screaming.
“Don’t be nice to me,” I blurt out in frustration. “It’s confusing.”
“Yeah, well, I was a little confused when you were scraping your nails down my back, but hey, I went with it.”
“Good,” I say, spinning to point at him. “Do that. That I can work with. I handle you better when you’re a prick.”
“So that’s what it is? You’re afraid to give a damn because then you can’t keep lying to yourself about us?”
“There is no us,” I shoot back. “We kissed. Big deal.”
“Twice, princess.”
“And it went so well we didn’t talk for two weeks.”
“Hey, you called me.” Defiant, he stares me down. A dare.
“And I see now it was a mistake.”
Gritting my teeth, I stalk forward, my sights set on the arched doorway leading to the exit. But that requires walking past Cooper, who reaches for my waist before I can sidestep him.
In the blink of an eye I’m in his arms, pressed tight against his chest. I feel every warm, solid inch of him against my body. Silence descends as he tips his head to look down at me. My breath catches. I forget who I was before I met him. In this bubble, in this quiet place where no one will find us, we can be entirely ourselves.
“Well …” I whisper, waiting for him to say something, do something. Anything. The anticipation is killing me, and I think he knows it.
“You can leave anytime you want,” he says roughly.
“I know.” Still, my feet don’t move. My heart beats a barrage against my rib cage. I’m suffocating, but all I want to do is sink deeper into his arms.
I shiver when his thumb lightly caresses my side over the thin fabric of my loose white shirt. Then the light touch becomes strong fingers curling over my hip, and my knees wobble. I’m smoke in his arms. I don’t feel solid.