Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“Well, be careful. That leg has a donkey’s kick.”
“Good,” he says, leaning his forearm down against the island countertop. “Because the God-fearing, good girl Christian angle could go both ways. It might send the right signal to some, but to others, it might make you more of a challenge.”
“Urgh!” I drop my head back like my neck is a flexible joint. “This is hard!”
“Let’s look at the rose sender’s prompts,” he says, swiping my phone out of my hand.
“Hey!”
“Greg?” He glances up from the screen, brows riding high on his head.
“What’s wrong with Greg?”
“What’s right with him?”
“You can’t object to a name.”
“I think you’ll find I can object to whatever the fuck I like.”
“Let me see.” I reach out when Whit twists his upper body, holding my phone out of reach.
“Ah-ah!” he mouths as though talking to a toddler. “Now, where were we?” Still holding the phone over my head, he taps the screen and begins to read the first prompt. “‘Something about me that surprises people is… I’m still single.’” Whit’s phone-holding arm drops, along with his expression. “What a complete twat.”
“You don’t think that’s cute?”
“I’m beginning to think you’re the kind of person who, when faced with a red flag, just sprinkles glitter on it.”
“I am not!”
“For God’s sake, it’s borderline narcissistic,” he says, rubbing his hand down his face. I just love how he does that. Big hands, big… never mind.
“Let’s hope it was him trying too hard and he redeems himself with the second.” He lifts the phone, his lips twisting a second later. “Dear, oh dear. Greg is worry.”
“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.” Can it?
“Prompt number two says, ‘dating me is like… taking a mouthful of water and finding out it’s actually vodka. Surprise!’ Anal,” he adds in a low murmur.
“What? It does not say… say that!” I make to grab my phone when he holds it out of my reach again.
“If Greg is the kind of bloke to give you vodka when you ask for water, he’s definitely not going to think twice about trying to shove his dick up your arse with an ‘oops, wrong hole!’”
“Ew, Whit!” Does that even happen? “Just give me that back.” I stretch out my arms as I stand on the stool’s foot bar, but I’m nowhere near high enough to reach.
“Keep your knickers on.” His eyes flick down. “Ah, I forgot. You haven’t got any on.”
“I’m hardly naked,” I protest. “I borrowed your sweats!”
He grins like the devil, and his eyes drop. “Doesn’t look like they’re going to stay on very long.”
I glance down and realize how low the waistband has sagged. “Dammit.” I grab it in one hand, and with the other, I make a hand gesture like I’m in a Lucy Lui action movie. Bring it. Only more like a whiny, “Just give it to me.”
“What’s it worth to you?” Devilment flits across his face.
I drop back to the stool, suddenly defeated.
“What’s wrong?”
“I give up.”
“No, you don’t,” he says, putting my phone down next to him. “You never give up.”
He’s thinking about the fake Mimi, not the real one. The real Mimi gave up and let her parents rule her life. It was probably a good thing that she did because she’s really making a mess of things.
“Mimi, come on. What is it?”
My chin jerks up, and I do this weird pfft sound, disputing his perceptiveness. “I was just thinking I have no idea where I’ll put all my new clothes,” I say, plucking the first topic out of my head. “I mean, I am grateful, but I only have a tiny room and no closet space to speak of.”
“You can leave them here. Some of them. Most? Whatever you like. You’ll be here often enough to wear them.”
“I will?”
“You were the one who demanded the full experience. Unless you’ve changed your mind and think Greg is a better choice.”
I hate that he’s being so blasé. “No, I don’t think that.”
There the real Mimi goes again, making a mess and complicating things when the man just gave her a very reasonable out. An out from danger, from her feelings.
“Good.” He leans his hip deeper against the counter as those tiger eyes slide over me. “Though I’m not sure there’s enough time left before you leave to do all the things I want to do to you.”
“That makes last night a waste, then.” The words escape my mouth without my say so.
“Last night?” Doubt flashes across his brow, lightening almost immediately, his mouth hooking up in one corner as though tugged by a string. “Well, it’s taken you a while, but at least you’ve said what you mean.”
“I always say what I mean,” I retort like the liar pants I am.
“Last night.” He sighs and rubs his right hands up and down the back of his head. “I suppose I was giving you space. Trying not to come on too strong.”