Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
"Oh, you're going to wish I had murdered you by the time I'm finished with you." I spin toward my desk, making sure to smack him with my purse in the process. Revenge is so satisfying. I really should have hopped on this train earlier in life. "I walked in there thinking everyone would be in costume, only to find myself standing in a sea of expensive ballgowns."
He chuckles again. "I fucked up."
"Clearly," I sniff, arranging a stack of files on my desk.
"Doesn't explain why the fuck I had to go beating on the Sheriff's door to find out you went home with Drake Whitlock," he says "Or why you didn't come home all weekend."
"We're not talking about that." I plop down in my chair, burying my face in a folder. I scan the document inside, only to realize I'm holding it upside down. I quickly flip it right-side up, my cheeks bright red.
"Oh, we're absolutely fucking talking about that," Tyler growls, pushing my office door closed. "You went home with Drake Whitlock."
"Fine. Yes, I went home with Drake." I drop the folder, scowling at him. "And it's your fault I can never look the sheriff in the eyes, by the way. I've never even met him, and he knows I had sex."
Tyler's dark eyes widen. "Jesus fucking Christ. You were serious about being tied to Drake's bed."
Crap. I should not have said that.
"I wasn't tied to his bed," I mutter.
He narrows his eyes on me. "But you were in his bed."
I square my shoulders and meet his gaze. "Yes, I was," I say. "But that's not your business, Tyler. I don't ask what you do with the people you sleep with."
"Easy. Nothing because I'm not sleeping with anyone."
I blink at him, caught off-guard by the unexpected answer.
He notices my expression and smirks. "You think Drake is the only man in this town who knows how to keep it in his pants, Maddy?"
"No, of course not." I shake my head. "I just figured…" I trail off. "Never mind. It doesn't even matter."
Maybe I need to stop judging books by their covers. I assumed a lot about Drake, and I've assumed a lot about Tyler simply because of who they are—rich, young, and good-looking.
I'm not the only one.
It's a little sad, honestly. We judge women because of what they wear or if they've slept with anyone, trying to fit them into some box—they're either innocent or they're sluts. God forbid we just let them be women. For too many people, there is no in-between. But we're a lot slower to admit that we do the same to men. If they look like Drake or Tyler, we assume they sleep around. If they don't sleep around, we assume they're defective.
Maybe we should just let people be people without trying to fit them into some box or force them to fit our narrow views.
I've never cared what anyone thought about me, but I still somehow manage to make assumptions about others and try to find a box for them a little too frequently. It's an awful habit.
"I don't fuck around," he says. "Doesn't interest me."
"I'm sorry for assuming."
He shrugs like it's no big deal, but I'm still a jerk for doing it. Tyler may be a pain in my ass, but he's also amazing. Who else would have hired their crazy baby cousin and moved her all the way across the state just because she needed a job? No one, that's who.
"You went home with Drake Whitlock," he says after a moment.
"Stop saying it like that!" I cry, glaring at him.
"Like what?"
"Like there's something wrong with Drake. There's nothing wrong with him. He's hilarious and sexy and protective and sweet and kind and was so freaking good to me. And you have no idea what he's been through, Tyler. He's a good man. A really good man," I say. "I lov…think he's perfect exactly the way he is."
"Holy shit." Tyler stares at me, wide-eyed. "You were going to say you love him, weren't you?"
"What? You're hearing things. You should really get that checked out. Hearing loss can be fatal in men your age."
"Cut the shit, Madeline Alicia Dooley," he growls, pointing at me. "You were going to say you love him."
I stare at him, panicking. He's right. I was going to say that. I'm in love with Drake. "It's crazy, right?" I whisper. "Tell me that it's crazy, and I'm delusional. Maybe you should check me for a fever. I probably have a sickness or something. That's what this is. I'm dying of the plague. You should probably flee before you catch it."
His lips twitch. "Love isn't a plague, Maddy. It isn't contagious."
"It might be," I mutter, slumping in my chair with a whimper. "This is too fast, Tyler. No one falls in love this fast. You're supposed to fall in love slowly and then eventually realize you actually hate each other and spend the rest of your life making your kids miserable."