Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 100680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” an annoyed voice boomed.
Bang. There went the box onto the floor. She gasped.
“Oh no! Do you think it broke?”
“Aston!”
She glanced up to see Maxim storming toward her from where he’d just stepped out of the elevator.
“Oh, hi! I wasn’t expecting to see you. I thought you’d already be at work.”
He glowered down at her, his hands on his hips. “Is that your excuse for not calling me and telling me that you needed help?”
“Um. Perhaps?”
His eye started twitching. That didn’t seem like a good thing.
“Ahh, have you had that tic for long?” she asked.
“It’s suddenly just appeared. I’ve got a nickname for it, though.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Trouble.”
“Somehow, I think that’s aimed at me,” she mused.
“Somehow, I think you’re right.”
“Rude,” she muttered.
“You look terrible.”
“Thanks,” she replied sarcastically. “It’s a new look I’m going for. You think it will catch on?”
“Exhausted and pale. Hmm, not sure it will.”
Grr.
“Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m busy.”
He stood over her, his arms crossed as he glared down at her. “Busy doing what?”
Uh. Could he not see what she was busy doing?
“I’m trying to get this up to my floor. I really hope it didn’t break when I dropped it.” She frowned up at him. “That’s your fault.”
“My fault?”
“Uh-huh. You yelled at me and caused me to drop it.”
“I caused you to drop it?”
“Are you having some sort of issue with your hearing? You keep repeating what I say.”
He rubbed at his forehead. “Maybe because I’m hoping that it might somehow start making sense.”
“What’s not making sense?”
“Well, let’s see . . . it could be the fact that you’re trying to lug a huge box around on your own. What is in this?”
“Um a flatpack bookcase.”
“Don’t you already own a bookcase?”
“Um, I do. This isn’t for me.”
He gave her an incredulous look. “It’s not for you?”
“It’s for Mrs. Strowan. She lives two doors down from me. She can’t go get it herself. So she asked if I would.”
“Why the hell didn’t she just pay the fee to get it delivered?”
“I guess she couldn’t afford it.”
He continued to stare at her, then he started muttering to himself.
“And you both thought it would be a good idea for you to get it? You don’t even own a car. How did you get this here?”
“I took it on the bus. And she asked me because I don’t think she has anyone else.”
“On the bus . . . she took it on the bus,” he mumbled.
“You’re really starting to worry me. I think there’s a vein about to pop out on your forehead.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“Why. Not. Call. Me?”
Okay, now he was down to one-word sentences. This definitely wasn’t a good thing.
“You’re busy. I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Bother. Me. She doesn’t want to bother me.”
She wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or not that now he seemed to be talking to himself. By the way that tic next to his eye was carrying on, she was thinking not.
“How were you going to get it upstairs? Were you going to use the elevator?” he asked.
Hmm. He knew she had trouble with the elevator still.
“Um . . . I was thinking I’d use the stairs.”
“You were going to lug a large box up seven flights of stairs.”
His voice had gone quiet. Too quiet. She had learned that wasn’t a good sign regarding the state of his temper.
“Yep.”
“By yourself.”
“Yep.”
“Because you weren’t going to do something sensible like call me.”
“I thought you’d be at work,” she said again.
“Clearly, I’m not. Which you would have known, if you had just called me.”
“I’m beginning to think you wanted me to call you.”
“Finally, she gets it.”
Reaching down, he picked up the box.
“You don’t need to carry it up.”
“Unless you’re willing to call Mrs. Strowan and get her to organize someone else to carry this up to her, then yeah, I do.”
“But I can do it.”
He paused and glared at her again. “Are you my girl, Rainbow?”
Lord. She liked it when he called her his girl. She liked it far too much for her peace of mind.
Because she just knew that nice things couldn’t last in her life. That wasn’t her fate. And Maxim Malone . . . he was the nicest. He was top-shelf whiskey, a designer handbag, a one-off pair of Louboutin’s.
Definitely not for her beer and sneakers world.
But still, she didn’t have it in her to turn him away.
“Yeah, I’m your girl.”
“I thought I’d already made this clear, if my girl needs me, then she calls me.”
“But I—”
“And if you say one more time that you didn’t call me because you thought I would be too busy, I’ll take you over my knee right here in the foyer.”
She gaped at him as he moved to the elevator and hit the button, somehow without dropping the box.