Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
“That’s not how I meant that—God, I hate you!”
“Then it seems we still have one thing in common.” He slams the drink, his eyes trained on me. I wonder if he’s watching my head grow in size as it prepares to explode.
“You know what. . .” That’s it. I stomp over to my boots, shove my feet into them, then grab my jacket. Throwing my purse and laptop bag over my shoulder, I snag the bottle of wine and toss open the front door. “Have a nice life. Or not, because I could care less what you do.”
I step outside, ignoring the bite in the air. I take a swig of the wine, then start my trek back to my car. The wind has picked up, and at least two more inches seem to be on the ground. “You’re fine. This is way better than being inside with that jerk.” Even though inside has heat. “You got this, Baker. You’ve endured worse.” I try to convince myself of that, but my toes are still numb from before, the damp boots not helping. I make it to the bend, and my teeth are already chattering. The snow is too high and thick, making walking almost impossible.
Each time I lift my leg, I exert too much energy. When I cross the bridge, I can barely see in front of me. “God. . . dammit!” I gasp and fall backward into the snow. Even if I take a small break, the car is too far. The weather is too bad. And I’m already a popsicle. “So, this is where I die,” I cry and lift the bottle to my mouth. I chug it while cursing the world and making vows. The first one is to haunt Tory and Ashley for eternity for this. “I was so close to landing that Winston and Fields account.” I sob between drinks. “That contract would have secured my rent for months. And God, all the evidence I’m leaving behind.”
Tory, Ashley, and I had a pact. If any of us suddenly bit the dust, the other two would clear all search history and inappropriate shit on our phones, laptops, and nightstand drawers. But now, with my phone lost in the woods and no one knowing I’m about to become a human popsicle, I’m screwed! Everyone will know about my perverted obsession with fictional superheroes or my weird fascination with unicorns because I swear they are real. “Great, well, I hope the world knows I’m not allergic to the silicone that dildos are made of, and that was a one-time thing.” Thank you, Google, for clarifying that rash and teaching me that buying vibrators from sketchy websites are not worth the deal, even if it was buy one get three free.
I silently pray none of my exes get wind that I secretly still stalk them on social media to make sure they aren’t doing better without me. And all the porn! “Mom and Dad, I’m so sorry! I swear I’m not into furries. I was just really curious!” I sink deeper into the snow. “God, if you can hear me. Please tell my parents I love them. And to take care of Captain Jack, my pet fish.” Chug. “Tell that one girl Melanie in college that I’m sorry. I should’ve befriended her instead of my sucky friends because I bet she wouldn’t have done this to me.” Chug. My hand shakes so badly I barely make my mouth and spill wine down my jacket. It freezes, and I eat the iced merlot chip. I hit the bottom of the bottle and then toss it into the snow. “Great, not even the wine is going to warm me this time.” I slump further into the pile of snow and close my eyes. “So this really is it. . .”
There’s the rumbling of an engine in the distance. I sigh, physically feeling like my lungs are starting to freeze over. Then, I feel pressure against my torso. I assume it’s my maker bringing me home. He smells like spice and mistakes.
“Up we go.” His voice is husky and familiar.
“Am I dead?” I ask, basking in the warmth of his hands, his breath.
“Not yet.”
I sigh and relax, letting him carry me as my eyes close and sleep takes me.
Chapter three
Callie
“It’s your round. And don’t try and trick me with the cheap vodka.”
“Dude, that was one time. I had like seven bucks to my name.” I blow Tory a kiss because I totally plan on ordering her drink with the cheaper vodka. I squeeze through the crowd and work my way up to the bar. “Hey, Sherry. Can I get a blueberry lemon drop martini, vodka soda—with house vodka— and a gin and tonic?”
“You can put that on my tab.”
I twist to my left to reply, but my words get caught in my throat. Holy blue eyes. The owner of said eyes slowly looks me over, and a carefree smile quirks his full lips as he leans against the bar. My cheeks flush, and I clear my throat. “Well, in that case. Sherry, make that vodka top shelf.” She nods and walks off.