Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Because you’re bitter and sweet.” I pull out one of the gray-and-white cushioned stools. “And I want to take a bite out of you.”
“How did you even get my address?” She ignores my comment about taking a bite out of her, but my cock suddenly is fully alert.
“I have my ways.” I tap the counter with my finger. Also, Google did help. “Did you like my gift?”
“No,” she huffs. “I hate chocolate.”
I put my head back and laugh out loud. “You are such a beautiful liar. They had chocolate fondue at the wedding, and you told me chocolate was your weakness.”
“I did not,” she denies. “You can’t take what a drunk woman says and use it against her.”
“I didn’t use it against you, gorgeous.” My voice goes low. “I did it to make you smile.”
“Well, it didn’t.” Her voice gets tight. “Goodbye.” I’m about to say something when I see she hung up on me.
I send her a message instead.
Stone: Should we not exchange phone numbers?
The message shows in blue, and then I see the little writing on the bottom that says it’s seen. It takes ten seconds before her message comes through.
Ryleigh: We shouldn’t even be following each other on Instagram. I should unfollow you right now.
Stone: Don’t forget, gorgeous, I now know where you work.
Ryleigh: Don’t forget I know half of the police department here, so good luck showing up.
Stone: You’d bail me out.
Ryleigh: I think you should try it and see.
Stone: Are you asking me to come see you?
Ryleigh: Yes, I’m asking you to come see me so I can have you arrested for stalking.
Stone: Are you going to cuff me yourself?
Ryleigh: Go away.
Stone: Call me later. 615-233-5674
Ryleigh: Here is my number 9-1-1
I can’t help but smile even bigger with her last message. Instead of calling her back or messaging her, I call Christopher to see if he has any pointers he can give me.
I scroll down my favorites until I reach his name and press the FaceTime button. It rings three times before his face fills the screen.
He is facedown on his bed, his head leaning over the mattress. “Are you sleeping?”
“Dude,” he groans and rolls to his back. “I feel like someone kicked every single bone in my body twice.”
“I skipped my workout,” I say because the one thing I do every single day is work out. During the off-season, I usually get in two workouts a day.
“You must be dying,” he replies.
“I had practice this morning and got my ass chewed by my coach,” I tell him as the timer goes off on the stove. “Jay and James said if I fucked up one more time, I would have to pay them money.” He shakes his head at that. “I’m eating, and then I’m going to bed.” Grabbing the oven glove, I take out the tray before grabbing a plate to put it on. “Hey, let me ask you. How do you get a girl to go out with you?”
“I usually use my words and say, ‘hey, want to go out with me?’” I roll my eyes at his response.
“What if she says no, but she really means yes?” I ask, and he laughs.
“If she said no, chances are she really doesn’t want to go out with you.” He throws the covers off him as he gets up and walks out of his dark bedroom, the light from the windows making him squint his eyes.
“I think she does.” I grab a fork and scoop a forkful of rice. “If she didn’t want to go out with me, she wouldn’t answer me.”
“Who are you talking about?” he asks, opening his own fridge.
“Ryleigh,” I say, and he just stares at me with big eyes.
“Are you insane? She’s practically family. How are you going to date her? Then what?” he rapid-fires at me. “Then you have to see her at every family get-together.” He shakes his head. “Why would you want to do that to yourself?”
“Well, for one, she’s fucking gorgeous.” I wait for him to say she isn’t, and when he doesn’t, I point my fork at the screen. “I’ll slice under your feet.”
“She’s not my type,” he informs me, and I almost believe him, “but go on, tell me why you want to date her.”
“She’s funny, she’s smart, she’s an amazing kisser.” I stop talking when he gasps.
“You made out with her?” he asks. I didn’t tell anyone because I wanted it to be just mine. “At the wedding?”
“No, sadly not at the wedding. The last time I saw her at the house, I cornered her in the bathroom, and, well, I couldn’t not kiss her.”
“Six months ago?” He laughs at me. “You made out with her six months ago, and now you want to date her?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m guessing you have no advice to give me.”