Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Just then, my phone rings. I answer, listen, and then hang up. “It’s the driver here to pick me up to take me to the airport.”
“Are you sure you want to go to the house? You should call the cops first.”
“No. I’ll call John and leave him a message. There was a strong storm. Maybe it knocked out some towers or the power.”
“Honestly, I don’t think she’s a stalker. Why wouldn’t she find a reason to bump into you? She’s met us, and if she’s your stalker, then she knows Lara’s your sister. Besides, I’m a good judge of character, and she didn’t give me those psycho vibes.”
As I’m getting ready to leave, John tries to call but it keeps breaking up. About two hours later, he shoots me a text right before I board my flight. Power out, charged phone in truck, taking kids to my in-laws. Down lines and trees. Gonna head back and work on restoring power. Sorry.
As I sit in my seat, my thoughts go to my stalker. I really hope she isn’t because something’s pulling me to her. The thought of her long blonde hair wrapped around my fist as I thrust my cock into her does nothing to help me sleep. I can’t shake this woman from my mind the entire flight. When I fall asleep, I dream of her taking me deep. Thankfully, rough turbulence jolts me awake before I make a total ass of myself. Shaking my head, I try to remove this woman from my mind.
Needing a drink, I flag down the flight attendant. I’m acting like a damn pervert. At least my dick is facing along the crease in my pants so that no one notices that I’m sporting a hard-on for a woman I don’t know, and I should despise.
Six and a half hours later, I’m at the airport in Montana waiting for my ride. The storm cut off all the power and John is working with the guys to get all the backup generators working, so I take an Uber to the ranch. I had no idea if it would be safe or if there was good cause for concern.
“The roads are terrible right now.”
“Just take it slow.”
“Thanks. People want to rush it, but it’s not worth ending up in a ditch.” All I can think about is my stalker and wondering if she’s still in my home.
“I’m exhausted, and I can’t wait to get home,” I mutter to myself as we pull into the gate. I pay the driver extra because it’s the holidays and I bet he probably had to work yesterday as well.
“Wow, thank you, Mr. Reynolds.” We shake hands and then I take my luggage up the porch steps when I see a cup of coffee on there. I didn’t leave coffee out when I left, did I? Could she still be here?
Maybe one of the guys left it when the power went out, but I wonder what awaits me.
I enter the house, but there’s only a couple of candles lit. We have multiple large generators, but I had no idea that they weren’t enough. Only the basic lights work. Most of the house has been rewired so that if a power outage happens, a lower voltage of lights kick in with the generator.
Suddenly, I get a whiff of Italian food in the air. Strange. Setting my luggage off to the side, I follow my nose to the kitchen, trying to figure out who the fuck is in my house. Maybe it’s Louisa, maybe it’s my stalker. I can’t seem to get her out of my head.
I nudge the kitchen door open to see the tiniest little woman with long blonde hair pinned up in a messy bun standing in front of my stove and singing. It’s the same fucking woman who was in my bedroom. A pair of tight black leggings encase her legs, hugging her thighs. She’s wearing a long sweater that acts almost like a dress. One side hangs off her shoulder. The hint of a pink bra strap is visible, and I want to bite that creamy skin between the fabric. “Fuck,” I groan out.
“Ah,” she screams, turning with a spoon in her hand. I barely dodge most of the sauce that leaves the spoon with the momentum. “Oh my God. Who are you? What are you doing in here?”
My brows rise up. If she’s my stalker, she should know who I am. Is this a game? Either way, I can’t seem to look away. I take in her fucking sexy face. Wide, bright bluish-grey eyes with dark eyelashes. Her perfectly pouty lips are parted in fear, and I want to kiss them. A few strands of hair slip out of the bun and frame her round face.
Suddenly, I see a little girl who looks just like her. Fuck, I’m losing it. Then I remember that I’m supposed to figure out why there’s a sexy angel in my house cooking. God, please don’t tell me she’s a crazy fan turned stalker.