Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
That should be obvious. “Because. This is ridiculous. I’m not going into your house to kill a spider.”
“But it’s a matter of life and death!”
“Clearly. I’m not going to do it. It’s three in the morning, and I’m in the middle of something. If it’s that bad, you should wait until morning, sleep on the couch, and call an exterminator.”
“It would hunt me down! The thing is probably heat-seeking. That’s how it found me in bed in the first place!”
“Ah yeah, I’m sure it has a good memory. It has totally learned to equate nighttime with you being in bed, asleep and helpless. And of course, it knows you are an easy target since it’s an above-average spider. Obviously, it must have evolved amongst the fittest and strongest.”
Lu-Anne opens her mouth to say something, but then she realizes I’m making fun of her, and she presses her lips shut. Her hands fly to her hips, and she blasts me with a frigid look of pure rage. “You’re an asshole. You know that? You moved into this neighborhood and haven’t made a single attempt to introduce yourself or be friendly.”
“That, I believe, is a two-way street.”
That’s all it takes for Lu-Anne to turn scarlet right up to the roots of her hair. “Thank you for being so helpful. Why would I want to come over and introduce myself when you’re so clearly off-putting?”
“Off-putting? Because I don’t want to go into your house and kill a spider in your bed at three in the morning? You—a complete stranger who I have never actually met before.”
That makes her even more flustered, but I can tell it also pisses her off further. She starts spluttering, not actually forming words. She’s searching for just the right insult to throw at me, or maybe something more logical to help me understand. Either way, she’s utterly adorable doing it. It’s an inappropriate observation, but I can’t help but notice. Just like I couldn’t help checking her out because—hell, I have eyes, and she has some really fine attributes that are very much on display at the moment.
She seems to realize I’m checking her out again at the same time I did. Her hands ball into fists, which she removes from her hips. She presses them down hard against her sides. Her arms are so rigid that I can see the muscles straining in them. When I sweep my eyes back up to her face, she looks pissed off enough to take a bite out of me like the spider tried to do to her. Maybe I should call for an exterminator myself.
This whole situation is not helping me maintain my cover. Now she’s going to be thinking about me pissing her off and refusing to be noble by killing the poor damn spider.
If there even is a spider. For all I know, suburbia has driven this lady crazy, and she’s over at my house trying to lure me into her bedroom for god knows what reason.
My dick seems to think any purpose would be a fine one, but my head has other ideas, and not just because of the fact that I’m supposed to be hiding out here, which includes not banging my super-hot neighbor. It means not getting involved with her in any capacity, especially not that way, since it’s totally inappropriate. Even before this, it’s not me. I’ve had a few serious girlfriends, but none of them worked out. It didn’t make me bitter, but I don’t do the whole one-night stand thing, and this lady, she lives right beside me. Things could get ugly fast.
“Thanks for the help,” she seethes. “And for being so neighborly.” Her eyes shoot daggers at me. I nearly step to the side since she looks capable of breathing fire. “And by neighborly, I mean very un-neighborly,” she confirms, just in case I had some doubt. “Actually, you’re a huge asshole. You’re a douchewad douchebag. I hope you choke on the poop you will undoubtedly eat for breakfast.”
Her strange parting shot complete; she whirls in a curtain of shimmering brown-red hair and storms down the sidewalk. She spots my recycling bin, which is empty, and hilariously enough, decides to take out her rage on it. She gives the thing a swift kick and nearly knocks herself over in the process. She mutters something under her breath, pushes it over onto its side, and stomps over my lawn. Crossing over to hers, she storms into her house.
I think the whole neighborhood hears her door slam shut. I can practically hear her stomping around inside, muttering obscenities and curses at me.
I shut the door, shaking my head. I hope no one was awake to witness that. I’m not in the mood to become the day’s premium bit of gossip. I do the locks back up and, shaking my head at the strangeness of what just happened, stalk back into the kitchen.