Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 91079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I might take offense at his attempt to sound like a country bumpkin, hillbilly hick, if it wasn’t so damn funny. Or if I didn’t have the pressing need to defend Ross—who I now know is the driver.
“He didn’t see me. And I used an accent.” They both look at me. “I mean, the chances of that actually being her accent are like, crazy. I’m not even that good at it. I don’t know if I’m Australian or English…By the way, who is Miss Sims? Do y’all really call her Miss Sims? Like, she doesn’t have another name?”
They’re staring at me like I’m crazy when Alfred walks in.
“Mr. Swagger, I can assure you this was just a terrible mix-up.” Alfred cuts his eyes at me. The disappointment there has me feeling real guilt for the first time since I got here. “I’ve never seen Miss Sims.” What the hell? Does nobody know what this lady looks like? “When the car arrived, I just assumed the lady inside was her. And she tried to—“
“I tried to get him to give me the key, but he wouldn’t,” I cut in. If my assumptions about Jake being That Guy are accurate, then he’s the kind of asshole who will fire Alfred. Of course he’ll rehire him once he discovers he was wrong and Alfred was just doing his job. But I’d hate for the old man to be out of work while Jake comes to his senses.
“Get out of my house. Both of you.”
The men shoot me a cold look. Like they’re mad. At me. The one who just saved their asses.
I should leave too. But I need that bag of dog shit lying at Jake’s feet. I move to get it and he halts me with a lift of his finger.
“Not you. You’re not leaving until I know exactly what happened.”
“Okay first, you have got to stop talking in that tone. I mean it really just--”
“Talk,” he barks.
I viscerally jerk at his tone. “Fine! Okay…so my best friend was doing a summer internship here. She met this guy and they dated all summer and when the internship was over, she moved back home but they did that long distance thing. But we both know that never works out.” I pause for him to maybe agree or something. He doesn’t.
I clear my throat. “She came to visit him and found out he was cheating on her with a chick he’d had here in Chicago the whole time they were dating. So, because I’m a good friend, I came here to avenge her broken heart.”
I point at the bag on the floor.
“I stole that dog shit so I could light it on fire on his doorstep. See, he has this really weird dog shit phobia. Anyway, I was chased through the city by the dog and his owner. And when I rounded a corner and saw a car sitting there waiting, I jumped in to hide. I was going to get out but then Ross offered a ride to this mysterious Miss Sims that no one has ever seen, and I accepted, needing to get as far away from the deranged man and his dog as possible.
“When I got here, I was going to leave. But I’m writing a book about a millionaire CEO who has an apartment like this. I’ve been dying to find my muse and just—look at this place! I mean have you seen these windows?”
I point at the windows, and Jake Swagger just stares at me with the look—you know the one.
“Uh, okay, yeah so you’ve seen them. Anyway can you blame a girl for staying here to do research? Didn’t think so. Especially since I was going to be gone before you got home, which was supposed to be tomorrow at noon. But you came home early. So I feel like if all of this is anyone’s fault, it’s yours, Mr. Swagger.”
He stares at me. A little dumbfounded, I think. I’m not good at reading emotions. But his jaw twitches. And his neck is red. This little vein in his forehead appears above his right eye.
Okay. Maybe that’s not surprise. Maybe that’s rage.
“Get out.”
How strange is it that his voice is so very calm when he is literally shaking with anger?
Or lust.
Nope. It’s anger.
“You know, I’d be happy to stay for dinner,” I offer, even though it’s three in the morning.
His body stiffens. He gapes at me as if I’m mad. I’m not, really. I’m just an opportunist. Speaking of opportunity, I’ve managed to casually take a few steps closer to him in hopes of catching the color of his eyes. Now that I’m only a few feet away, I can see that his eyes are a gray/blue/green.
“You’re lucky I’m not calling the police.”
I quietly listen to his rant while I breathe deep to catch his scent. They make it sound so easy in the books. They lie. From two feet away, I can’t smell a damn thing.