Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Jeremiah, who hadn’t said a word since the ‘you that hungry’ comment looked up to the newcomer, annoyance at being interrupted clear on his face.
“It’s nice to find someone that doesn’t feel the need to fill the silences with awkward chatter and annoying comments, like you, Shine,” Jeremiah said. “What do you want?”
Jeremiah.
Wow, what a name.
And a mouthful.
“I just can’t with you, Uncle Jeremiah. I just can’t.” Shine rolled his eyes. “Are you not hot as balls sitting right there?”
I thought about it.
“It’s toasty,” Jeremiah said from beside me. “But I can see my book.”
That was true.
He was reading an actual book, while my Kindle was backlit. He would need the fire to see the words on the page.
“What are you reading?” I asked curiously.
He glanced at me, showed me the front of the book for about two point eight seconds, then dropped it back down to his thigh before going back to reading.
“Don’t feel bad,” Shine, the newcomer, said. “He doesn’t get much time to read.”
I snorted.
“What are you reading?” Shine asked politely.
I wished he wouldn’t bother.
I glanced up at him and said, “Fantasy. You wouldn’t know it.”
Shine smirked. “As in that fairy porn crap that my wife’s been reading?”
I felt my face flush with the accusation in his tone.
So it might be fairy porn.
But that didn’t mean that it was bad.
It meant that it was something different. Something that took a certain amount of greatness to write because it was so imaginative.
“It’s something,” I said, not bothering to reply to his words.
“Go fuck off or something, Shine,” Jeremiah ordered. “You’re making it hard to concentrate.”
Shine walked off, chuckling.
I watched him go, almost scared that he’d come back and push me.
Reading fantasy romance books was nothing to be ashamed of. A lot of people read that particular genre.
The only problem was, I didn’t want the man next to me to know what I was reading.
Because, for some reason, him knowing meant that he would be thinking about it. And having him think about it sent nerves of excitement throughout my body.
But the man at my side didn’t talk.
Not for a few really long minutes as I got through another chapter on my Kindle.
I shifted in my seat, all of a sudden hitting another scene that, from out of nowhere, had me squirming in my spot.
The other problem was, now that there was someone to picture in these particular scenes, I couldn’t stop myself from fitting the middle-aged man at my side into all of them.
I opened and closed my hand almost out of habit, then held it out to the fire while I continued to read.
The man was just sliding his hand down into his girl’s panties when I heard, “You go any farther with that hand and you’re gonna get some burns.”
I looked up and wrinkled my nose.
“I can feel when it’s hot,” I told him. “It’s getting my body to get with the program and send warm blood to my extremities that’s the problem.”
He looked at me sideways as he said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I showed him my hand, which had gone mostly numb.
“I have Raynaud’s disease,” I said as I wiggled my fingers at him. There was only one that looked healthy and pink. The rest looked sickly white. “It’s pretty much I have shit circulation when it’s cold. Usually I wear gloves, but I forgot them today.”
He tilted his head and looked at my fingers, then stood and left without another word.
I was left staring at his retreating back with an incredulous look on my face for so long, it was a wonder that it didn’t stick there forever.
But, since I was practical and shit, I chose to shrug off the feeling of sadness that he didn’t talk to me more and went back to my book.
I was getting into the meat of the story, where the good fairy finally met the ‘bad’ fairy, when I saw a pair of gloves shoved under my nose.
I blinked at them for so long that they dropped in my lap after the person holding them out to me got impatient.
“What are…” I trailed off when I looked up to find the man once again resuming his seat.
“Don’t lose those,” he said. “I want them back by the end of the night.”
I didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
I shoved my hand into the glove and sighed. “Magical. Thank you.”
He gave me a chin jerk and then went back to reading.
We did this for so long that the party started to die down around us.
I was so entrenched in my thoughts that I didn’t see the man at my side move until I practically heard his voice in my ear.
“There’s a spark on your shoe.”
I looked at my shoe and cursed.
For sure, there was a spark burning its way through my shoelaces.