Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Making my way across the lot, I move in beside her, and she tenses, releasing her hold on the tree as she whips around to fix me with a heavy stare, only I ignore it as I dive for the stupid tree. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Blair seethes as I haul the fucker over my shoulder and make my way back toward my truck. “Hey. I’m talking to you.”
I scoff again, rolling my eyes simply because I know how much it gets under her skin. I don’t respond as I reach my truck and settle the tree into the back as Blair finally finds the courage to storm after me. “I don’t need your help,” she spits, crossing her arms over her chest, unaware of the way the movement pushes her full tits together.
“Right. Because you had it under control,” I tell her, arching a brow and trying my hardest to hold on to what little control I have left. “What was your big plan, Blair? I don’t see Billy or his old man around. How were you planning on getting that tree in the back of your truck, huh? How were you planning on getting your spoiled ass home?”
Blair clenches her jaw, fury rippling through her stare. “I would have figured it out.”
I shake my head, turning back to my truck and throwing a strap over the tree to secure it. “Before or after you froze to death?”
“God. You’re such an asshole.”
“Me? I’m the asshole?” I ask, whipping back around, more than ready to tear her to shreds.
“Yeah, you are. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not some damsel who needs saving, especially from you. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you constantly showing up and trying to do things for me.”
“Oh, my bad. Tell me, how did you like shoveling your fucking driveway this morning?”
“Shit. I’d almost forgotten about that God complex of yours,” she throws back at me. “I was more than ready to shovel the driveway. It’s not my problem that you chose to put your big-ass nose into my business and do it before I could even get a chance. Tell me, what time did you come by? Was it early this morning? Or was your desperation clawing at you so much that you couldn’t possibly wait that long? Were you creeping through the streets in the middle of the night while the neighbors slept?”
I turn back around, getting busy with the straps, but apparently she hasn’t had enough. “What are you looking for? A thank you?” she scoffs. “Because in case you didn’t notice, I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“That’s right, because little miss independent Blair Wilder doesn’t ask for shit. Believe me, I’m more than aware,” I tell her, hating that pang of ugliness inside of me that’s lingered for six long years since the day she refused to ask if I’d even want to come to New York with her. “But when did your normal human decency and morals fade away? Was it the second you got to New York or did it slowly chip away over the years? Because I sure as fuck know that your grandparents didn’t raise you like that. Around here, when someone does something nice for you, whether you asked them to or not, you say thank you.”
Fuck. Why do I have to love her like this?
Blair seethes at me, her gaze narrowed into lethal slits, and I can almost feel her laser stare tearing into me. She doesn’t respond, refusing to say thank you out of principle. But I know her better than anyone on this goddamn planet. I know everything about her, know the way she sounds when she sleeps, know the way she tastes. And because I know her so well, I know just how grateful she is that she didn’t have to plow her fucking driveway. Don’t get me wrong, Blair doesn’t mind a bit of physical labor, but if she can avoid it, she will.
Keeping my hands moving on the straps, I meet her furious stare. “Get in the truck.”
“Like hell I’m getting in your truck.”
I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to tighten the strap so much that the tree snaps in half. “Get in the fucking truck, Blair. I’m not asking again.”
She scoffs, turning away and striding toward her pop’s pickup. “Thanks for the offer,” she spits over her shoulder, emphasizing the word thanks like it’s poison on her tongue. “But you’ve lost your mind if you think I’m about to go anywhere with you.”
Don’t do it. Don’t fucking do it.
Shit.
I storm around the back of my truck, my strides eating up the distance between us with ease, and before I know it, my hands are on her toned waist, hauling her over my damn shoulder. Blair squeals as I turn around and make my way back to my truck, every step accompanied by a firm beating against my back. But damn, all I can think about is the way she smells like every fucking dream I’ve had since the day I first met her in high school.