Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“Not really, no,” she answered as she came to a stop at the front door.
“It’s open,” I murmured from close behind her.
She reached forward and depressed the button on the door that would let her in, then gasped two feet past the threshold when she got a good look at the back part of my house.
Every single inch of it was windows. Thirty-eight feet at the highest peak, it tapered down in a farmhouse style. The back deck extended thirty feet out, and beyond that all you could see was the lake.
It’d been my dream house when I’d been younger, and now it was my reality.
Even if I hadn’t actually stayed a night in it since it’d been done.
I would be staying the night in it tonight, though.
At least until I was one hundred percent certain that Ms. Broussard could keep her mouth shut.
I brushed past her as I walked farther into the foyer, and that one little slice of contact was enough to make my dick hard.
Jesus, what was it about this woman?
“Wow,” Six said from behind me. “This place is amazing. I can’t even tell you. Just wow.”
I grinned and walked to my fridge that was in the all-in-one large, shared room with the living, dining and entryway. “Would you like something to drink?”
She walked farther into the room and came to a stop next to the bar-height counter that separated us.
“Uh.” She looked at me. “What do you have?”
I opened the fridge door and stepped back, showing her.
“Ice water from the tap, too,” I said.
She licked her lips, her eyes taking in my practically bare fridge.
“So it’s either I have cooking wine, ketchup, or ice water?” she teased.
“So which will it be?” I asked curiously.
“I’ll have the ketchup,” she joked.
I rolled my eyes and closed the fridge, walking to the cabinet next to the fridge for a glass. Only, there weren’t any in there. Or the next one. Or the next.
“You’re really bad at this kidnapping thing,” she said. “You should know the house that you take your kidnappee to.”
I finally hit pay dirt in the cabinet next to the stove.
“Why would they be that far away?” I grumbled to myself.
She answered, though.
“Probably because you paid someone to do this for you, and instead of doing it yourself so you could have things where you wanted them, you chose to let them put them where they wanted them. Which, might I add, where they’re at is actually a good place. Right next to the sink and the dishwasher.” She paused. “You probably don’t wash your own dishes, do you?”
I did… sometimes.
“I use paper plates when I eat,” I admitted. “I wash my own forks and coffee cup, though.”
When it was still there the next morning and I needed it, that was.
“So wonderful of you,” she said. “I can get my own water.”
I handed her the cup and allowed her to do just that, my eyes taking in her every move.
Today she was wearing all black except for a hint of purple here and there. Her boots, though? Those were bright purple with sparkles. Her shoelaces were also purple with sparkles. Oh, and let’s not forget the purple bra that I could see through her shirt when she moved just right.
Her eyes, though, weren’t purple like they were the other day. Today they were brown.
“Do you wear contacts?” I asked curiously.
It was obvious those purple eyes from the other day were cosmetically enhanced by contacts. Today, though, there was something about her brown eyes that had me thinking that they were her original color.
“Yes,” she said. “Obviously.”
My lip twitched at the corner.
“So what’s your original color?” I wondered. “Brown?”
She scrunched up her nose. “Do you think that I would pick a boring color like this? Of course, it’s my natural color.” She tilted her head slightly, then pulled her hair away from her face. “My natural hair color is brown, too.”
My brown-eyed girl.
God, I loved the shit that she gave to me, even if she hadn’t actually intended to give me it.
The door beyond where we were standing slammed, and suddenly Bruno rounded the corner. He had a backpack over one shoulder. When he saw us standing in the kitchen, he walked straight to us and deposited the bag onto the counter.
“Did you look through it?” Six asked accusingly.
“Yes,” Bruno answered, not bullshitting her. “I had to make sure that you didn’t have any ulterior motives on why you walked into the clearing today.”
“No ulterior motives.” Six left the backpack where it was. “Just needing to unplug for a bit. That’s what I always do. Go for a walk.” She leaned her hip against the counter. “Are you the man that co-owns the land with her?”
I shook my head. “I own the land I was on free and clear. I don’t share it with anyone. I think the land that you’re talking about belongs to Wyett Villin? If that’s the case, she shares her land with my neighbor. I don’t know his name right off the top of my head, though.”