Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Only that wasn’t working for me, either. I didn’t like the distance or weird energy that settled over us like a wet blanket just then, which is why I told him about being arrested when I was younger. I wanted to make him smile or, better yet, laugh. I didn’t expect him to open up to me and tell me about a piece of his childhood in return, but he did. That made the connection I feel with him grow a little more. It also made it easy for me to agree to go out with him. Well, that and the fact that he looks at me like I’m already his.
At that thought, my skin tingles and my body hums. Intellectually, I know I shouldn’t find it as hot as I do that he seems so possessive about me, but my body has other ideas. There is something powerful in knowing that I can cause those kinds of emotions. When he saw me talking to Edward, I thought for a moment that he was going to storm across the room, pick me up, toss me over his shoulder, and carry me away with him.
I swallow, and hard anxiety hits the pit of my stomach. Reality crashes down around me like a ton of bricks. The last time I thought I had a connection with someone, I was very, very wrong. Am I just as wrong this time around? I need to stop thinking of this thing between us in terms of something serious. I should just think of it as a little bit of fun. No-strings-attached fun that won’t lead to me being brokenhearted. I shouldn’t assume anything more. We are just two people who are attracted to each other and who have over-the-top, out-of-this-world chemistry.
“Mac?” Libby’s singsong hello floats from the living room, cutting into my wayward thoughts.
I sit up on the side of the bed.
“I’m in the bedroom!” I shout back, wondering why it’s necessary to inform her of that—our apartment is less than five hundred square feet. She would have found me eventually, even without looking.
“What’s up, sister dearest?” She comes into the room with her long, dark hair tied up into a neat bun and her makeup done perfectly.
“Nothing much,” I answer, watching her dump her purse on her twin bed, which is directly across from mine.
She starts stripping out of her slacks and fitted blouse—something that she always does the moment she gets home, which makes me wonder why she bothers wearing things that are obviously so uncomfortable. “Do you feel like ordering a pizza and watching a horror flick?” She turns to look at me once she has on her baggy sweats and an even baggier T-shirt.
“I’m actually going out in a bit. I’m meeting a friend for dinner.”
“Oh, can I come?”
Oh lord. How do I answer that? Libby often comes out with me when I’m meeting friends, so I know if I tell her she can’t come, she will have a million questions for me—questions I’m not ready to answer.
“Never mind. I don’t feel like getting dressed again,” she says as she heads toward the bathroom, taking her hair out of the bun as she goes.
Sighing in relief, I play it off like I’m disappointed when she comes back out. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s freezing out. They said it’s going to snow. I don’t want to be stuck outside wearing heels if it’s snowing.”
“You could just wear regular shoes . . .” I point out the obvious.
She rolls her eyes at me, making me smile. I don’t know how Libby does it, but she manages to wear heels even though she’s on her feet all day doing makeup for the who’s who of New York City at the posh upscale boutique where she works.
“I own one pair of rain boots and one pair of sneakers—and they are both still brand new and in the box they came in.” She lies down on her bed, then rolls her head toward me. Her eyes scan my face. “Are you okay?”
“Yep,” I say. Maybe I answered a little too quickly, because her eyes narrow. She lifts herself up on an elbow and rests her head in her hand.
“You’ve been weird since before Thanksgiving. What’s going on?”
There is a six-foot-two gorgeous, giant man taking up my every waking thought, I think but don’t say.
“Nothing’s wrong. Just a little tired.” I shrug one shoulder.
“Hmm.” She studies me like a speck of dirt under a microscope.
Needing to avoid the interrogation I feel coming, I stand and head for the bathroom.
“So tell me about Wesley.”
Dammit! I pause and turn to look at her over my shoulder. “Wesley?” I feign ignorance.
She huffs out a breath. “Yeah, Levi’s hot friend Wesley. How do you know him?”
Bunching my eyebrows together to give her the full effect I ask, “Know him?”