Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Only this time, he didn’t say a word. Instead, he took an audible, deep inhale and groaned out the exhale. I felt the rumble from it shoot down to my toes, making some interesting stops on its way.
Seriously? I was a puddle from a fucking sniff. I needed an extra thirty seconds to collect myself after he walked inside.
“You’re early.”
He held up a bag I hadn’t noticed. “I brought breakfast.”
I read the logo. “Jamba?”
“Steel-cut oatmeal with bananas, shredded coconut, and brown sugar.”
My eyes widened. “That’s my favorite breakfast in the world.”
“I know. Bella told me.”
“You called my mother to ask her what I liked for breakfast?”
“No. She called me last night to invite me for dinner on Sunday, and I mentioned we were going to Izzy’s game. She might have suggested I pick up breakfast on my way and told me what you liked.”
I spoke under my breath. “Of course she did.”
Hunter smiled. “Come on, let’s eat before it gets cold.”
It would’ve been stupid to let a perfectly good breakfast go to waste as a form of protest against my mother and Hunter’s newfound friendship. So I sat down and dug into the awesomeness.
I hadn’t realized I’d been quiet for so long while I shoveled oatmeal into my mouth until I caught Hunter’s lip twitching while he watched me.
“What?”
“I take it you really do like this stuff?”
I spoke with a full mouth. “It’s better than sex.”
“Then you haven’t been fucked properly.”
Mid-swallow, I choked on the oatmeal, sputtering and gasping.
Hunter dropped his spoon and looked like he was about to dive across the table to deliver the Heimlich.
I put a hand up to stop him and spoke with strain. “I’m fine. Water.”
He grabbed a glass and filled it while I worked to catch my breath. My throat burned as I downed the water.
“You sure you’re okay?”
I patted my chest as everything finally made its way down the right pipe. “I’m fine.”
Hunter sat back down. “You shouldn’t try to talk while swallowing.”
“You shouldn’t say inappropriate things.”
“You started it. Answering the door with your nipples all perky, smelling so fucking good, talking about sex. I think you’re the one who’s inappropriate here.”
My eyes bulged. “You showed up half an hour early, so I’d just gotten out of the shower, and my nipples were still hard as a result. That smell you like so much? It’s called soap. And I wasn’t talking about sex. I made a statement that was a metaphor to describe how much I like the oatmeal.”
Hunter scooped a heaping spoonful of oatmeal from his container and spoke before shoveling it into his mouth. “The only thing I heard from that explanation was nipples and sex.”
* * *
“How was your date the other night?” Hunter side-glanced at me before returning his eyes to the road. We were sitting in traffic on the bridge on our way upstate for the game.
“It was wonderful.”
He chuckled.
“What?”
“You’re a shit liar.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not a liar.”
“You pick imaginary lint off of your clothes when you lie. You just did it when you said your date was wonderful.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
He shrugged. “If you say so.”
A few minutes of awkward silence passed before he spoke again. “Did you go back to his place?”
“That’s really none of your business.”
“You wanna know what I think?”
“Not really, no.”
“I think you kissed him good night but compared it to our kiss and realized as much as you want to want this guy, you don’t.”
My gaze narrowed. “We had sex, and I didn’t think of you once.”
“Really?” He glanced over at me.
“Really,” I said. I turned my head toward the window to keep my heated face from his view.
Hunter leaned over and breached my personal space while driving. “What’s that you’re doing with your left hand right now?”
I froze. I was picking imaginary damn lint off of my jeans. Having no response to being caught lying, I simply scowled at him.
He gloated and smiled in my direction.
After a few minutes, he sighed. “Let me take you to dinner tonight.”
I ignored him. “Did you take the garter I caught from Anna and Derek’s wedding? I couldn’t find it when I left my hotel room.”
“Nope. Didn’t see it.”
“Damn. I really wanted to keep it.”
Hunter changed the subject back. He really had a one-track mind. “So … what do you say? Let me take you to dinner tonight.”
“No.”
“You’ll let the poor bastard you don’t even like kissing take you to dinner, but you won’t let me take you out?”
I nodded. “That’s right.”
“I’m attracted to you. You’re attracted to me. I don’t get it.”
I decided to be honest and not filter my response. “When I was twelve years old, I came home from school early. We had a half day for parent-teacher conferences. My mom kept a calendar on the refrigerator with all our schedules and activities. With four girls, there was scribble on most days. But that particular day, Mom had forgotten to write that we had a shortened day. Both my parents worked, and I was a latchkey kid, so I walked home from school and let myself in. There was noise coming from my mom’s room, so I figured she’d left the TV on like she sometimes did. I went to turn it off and walked in on my father having sex with one of my mom’s good friends.”