Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
The waitress stops at our table to take our order. She’s tall and curvy with a generous chest. Blond, just the way Ash likes them. She smiles at us both, but her expression turns appreciative when she gives him her full attention. I flick my eyes in his direction, expecting to find him returning her interest, but his ice-blue eyes are on me.
“Know what you want, Sadie?”
Him. The realization hits me hard, stealing my breath. I’ve always been attracted to him, but this is different. This feeling is new and scary because I can see us hanging out like this all the time.
Talking and laughing.
Touching and feeling.
Feeling so much.
I lower my attention to my menu. “I’ll have pancakes.”
“Same for me,” Ashton says.
The waitress picks up our menus, and Ash and I are once again left alone. I’m having trouble meeting his eyes as these disconcerting feelings blaze through my blood. So much has changed between us in such a short amount of time, and I’m having trouble catching up.
Having trouble making sense out of it. Before Friday night, I had a boyfriend I was ready to take the next step with, and now I’m sitting across from a guy I’ve known since grade school, practically drooling over him. I’m not sure how I got from there to here.
I blame the tequila.
“What about you?” he asks, bringing my gaze back to his face. “Do you still hate your job?” He knows I do, and the smirk on his face is proof. Ash has always enjoyed getting a rise out of me. When I was a girl, he did it by picking on me. When I was a teenager, he got under my skin by picking on my dates.
“I still hate it as much as I did the last time we had this conversation.” I glower at him, not appreciating the reminder that I have to go back to work tomorrow and deal with Jake.
“Then quit. Life’s too short to be miserable.”
“It’s not that simple, Ash.”
“Sure it is. You walk in and say ‘I quit.’ Just like you did with law school.”
I scoff. “My father would have a heart attack.”
“Your father will get over it.” Ashton clenches his jaw. “It’s time to grow up. You’re a college graduate living on your own.”
“That’s right,” I say, voice rising. “I am living on my own. Which means I have bills to pay, such as rent.” Although splitting housing costs with Mandy definitely cuts down on the bills. Truth is, I could afford my own place if I wanted to move. But maybe I’m comfortable with my living situation as part of me does want to be able to quit at a moment’s notice. Plus, I wouldn’t leave Mandy in the lurch like that.
“So find another job first. Find something you want to do.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start.” Because I never got the chance to think about what I wanted to do with my life—I was too busy toeing Dad’s line of expectations. Not for the first time, the idea of going back to school to explore my options flits through my mind.
“You won’t know until you try.” He pauses, his expression more serious than usual. “I just hate watching you waste away in that place. It’s not you, Sadie. You shouldn’t settle for a job at your dad’s firm because he wants it. I don’t care how much pressure he puts on you.”
“It’s job stability.” God, I sound like my dad. Maybe Ash is right.
“It’s boring, and I know it weighs on your spirit to watch criminals get off scot-free all the time.”
“They’re not all guilty,” I argue.
“You know they’re not all innocent either.”
I let out a long sigh. “What do you suggest I do? Plant trees like you?”
His lips curve up in a smile. “If it makes you happy.”
“I am happy.” I fold my arms across my chest.
“Happy? No.” His blue gaze wanders over my face. “If you were happy, you wouldn’t be so defensive.”
“I’m not fucking defensive.”
He raises a brow. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“You sure sound fired up to me.” His eyes are practically grinning at me. “I kind of like you this way.”
“What way is that?”
“Passionate.”
“It’s called irritation,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Irritation is still passion.”
“In my book, irritation is irritation.”
A devious grin spreads across his ridiculously gorgeous face. “I don’t think so, Sawyer. Irritation is a form of anger, but you’re not the least bit angry. If anything, verbal sparring gets you hot between the legs.”
Shit. I press my thighs together, thankful he can’t see them underneath the table. My flaming cheeks, on the other hand, are out of my control. They’re probably as noticeable as the wild state of my red hair.
Ashton shoots a glance around our surroundings, then he leans forward. “Touch yourself.”
“What?” I had to have heard him wrong.