Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
She shook her head. “That’s so insane. And you’re absolutely positive it’s the same guy?”
“Well, I think so…it’s hard to be a hundred percent sure. But I’m like ninety-seven, ninety-eight percent certain it was him. He has a really distinct low voice. It’s raspy and kind of rumbles.”
“But yet he didn’t recognize your voice?”
Oh. So I lied. I hadn’t exactly told Summer the entire story. I started to crack up thinking of the part I’d left out. The entire last half hour had been absolutely insane, but my bad British accent was the proverbial icing on the cake. “I disguised my voice by pretending I was British.” I snort laughed. “From the town of Schwinn.”
Poor Summer looked utterly confused. “British? Schwinn? Is that even a real place?”
“I have no freaking idea.”
Summer leaned across the table and felt my head. “Yup. Just what I thought,” she said.
“What?”
“You don’t have a fever, so that means you’ve lost your bloody mind.”
That night, I debated calling Silas. While this morning I’d been ninety-seven or ninety-eight percent sure that our panty thief landlord was also Mr. Good Time, as the hours went on, I started to doubt myself. Now I felt like the chances were more like fifty-fifty. But if I called him…heard his voice from the phone one more time, I was certain I’d be able to figure it out.
Though…Summer and Charlie had made me promise I wouldn’t do that. They didn’t want to risk getting kicked out of our rented beach house. So even though I really, really wanted to call Silas right now, I didn’t. But as I started to drift off to dreamland, my cell buzzed from the nightstand.
The number wasn’t one programmed into my phone, but I definitely knew who it was. Sitting up, I debated answering.
I’d promised my friends I wouldn’t call and stir the pot.
But I hadn’t promised them I wouldn’t answer if Mr. Good Time called me.
I could just answer the phone and see where things go.
I’d keep my distance from any conversation that might be considered stirring the pot.
The call could be short, even…all I needed to do was hear his voice to be sure.
When my cell buzzed a third time, I grabbed it from the charger.
“Hello.”
“Are you wearing your pink panties again tonight?” he rasped.
My eyes widened. I wasn’t, of course. Because my pink panties were one of the items stolen today!
I cleared my throat. “No, actually. Tonight I’m not wearing any.”
Sadly, that wasn’t even meant to get him riled up. It was the truth. I hadn’t had a chance to buy more underwear, so I was conserving the few pairs I had left and simply not wearing anything under my pajama shorts tonight.
“Damn. I’m trying to be good here, but you’re not making it easy with that visual. Actually…you’re making it hard.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
That was all he needed to say. Not only was he turning me on with that one sentence, but now I was a hundred percent sure that Silas was also my landlord. That voice. It’s confirmed. It’s him.
And now I was sitting here, feeling moisture between my legs because I had the added unfortunate knowledge of what he looked like. What was once a harmless, anonymous flirtation now felt like a tsunami of desire inside of me. At the same time, I was a little annoyed at myself for liking our jackass landlord.
Needing to change the subject off of my bare vagina, I asked, “Wha…what did you do today?”
He sighed. “I had a shitty day, actually.”
I swallowed. “Oh? What happened?”
“A problem with some of my tenants.”
Crap.
And there it was. Final confirmation.
“You own properties?”
“Yeah. Two on the island. They’re right on the water. I rent them out.”
“What kind of problem?”
“If I tell you…you’ll probably think I‘m a dick.”
“Actually, I already think you’re a dick, so you’re good there. Hasn’t kept me from wanting to talk to you. In fact, I quite like your dick.” I shook my head fast. “That came out wrong. Meant to say, ‘I quite like that you’re a dick. You’re. You are.”
His raspy chuckle vibrated through my ear. “I think that was a Freudian slip.”
Feeling my cheeks heat up, I again tried to push the subject off of sex. “So what happened today?”
Of course I already knew the answer.
He paused. “These crazy ass girls are renting one of the houses for the summer. They like to hang their clothes out on the deck to dry—like underwear and shit. Yesterday I got fined from the town. They’d already issued me a warning, and I’d spoke to the tenants about it. But they kept doing it anyway. Today I passed by and saw that the wind had blown the stuff all over the property and into the road. So, I collected it all and sent them a message telling them I was donating it.”