Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Holy shit.
Jerking my eyes off the trail of hair leading into his jeans, I look toward the bathroom. “Do you mind if I use your restroom?” I squeak, not even bothering to wait for him to answer before heading that way. Hearing him say “sure” to my back, I go in and close the door.
Flipping on the light, I look at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are pink, and my eyes are dilated so much that there isn’t any blue left. They are almost all black. I’m turned on. I’m turned on from just seeing Harlen shirtless. He didn’t touch me, didn’t look at me, didn’t do anything but take off his shirt. Turning on the water, I rest my hands on the edge of the sink and drop my head forward. I need to ask him what’s going on. I need to find out from him where his head’s at. With that thought in mind, I shut off the water and open the bathroom door.
“You ready?” he asks, and my step falters, along with my resolve to ask him the question I need to ask him.
“Yep,” I lie, and he steps around me to the door, opening it. Without taking my hand, he leads me back into the building we came out of but into another room, this one with a pool table, TV that must be a hundred inches with a crappy couch in front of it, and a kitchen. Going into the kitchen area, he dumps the beer I brought into the fridge then grabs two others from the door, twisting off the tops before handing me one. I take it, but what I don’t do is ask him why I’m here.
“Have you played pool before?” he asks, leading me toward the pool table.
“No.” I shrug, taking a sip from my beer and wishing it were apple cider, since I don’t really like real beer at all.
“Finally,” he says, and I look at him.
“Finally what?”
“Been thinking you’re too good to be true.”
“What?” I repeat, this time sounding breathy, wondering if I heard him right.
“You eat actual pizza, show up on time, know which tools are which, you don’t suck to look at, and you look fucking great in a pair of jeans. Too good to be true.”
Did he just say that? Holy shit, my legs go weak and I have to lean into the pool table to keep standing. “I… thank you, I think.”
“Yeah, you’re welcome.” He laughs, and the sound washes over me, making my insides turn liquid and my pulse kick into overdrive. Last night, I got him to smile a few times, but that’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh, and I know I don’t want it to be the last. “You ready to get your ass kicked?”
“Are you really going to kick my ass when I don’t know what I’m doing?” I question, and he laughs again, this time softly.
“Right, I’ll show you how to play. Then I’ll kick your ass.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes then take the stick he hands me. Taking another sip of the beer, I must make a face, because his eyes focus on me. “What?”
“You want a wine cooler?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately, and he chuckles.
“I’ll add that to the list,” he mutters, going to the kitchen and coming back a minute later with a blue wine cooler, handing it to me.
“What exactly are you adding to the list?” I ask.
He grins. “The fact you don’t like real beer.”
“So that’s going into the negative line of my resume?” I joke, and his grin gentles into a smile but he doesn’t answer my question. Instead, he moves to the table and sets up the balls in the middle. “Should I start my own list?” I ask, and his eyes come to me.
“Probably,” he mumbles, dropping his eyes from mine. “Ready?” He stands back and I sigh.
“Ready,” I agree, and then I listen as he walks me through how to play the game and tells me that I’m solids. After that, he breaks and we start playing, and it’s much more fun than I thought it would be.
“You sure you never played pool before?” Harlen asks an hour later, and I grin at him, bending over the pool table to take my shot.
“I’m sure.” I slide the stick between my fingers and hit the white ball into the yellow one, watching it sink into the right corner pocket.
“Maybe we should go into town and make some money,” he says as I stand.
“What?” I laugh, picking up my second wine cooler from the edge of the table and taking a sip.
“Never mind.” He smiles as I move around the table to take another shot, this one missing. Watching him take his turn, I study him. He’s full of contradictions. Just seeing him, I would never guess he could be sweet, that he could make me laugh and put me at ease without even trying. “How do you feel about Chinese?”