Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 154595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
She isn’t yours.
You aren’t keeping her.
You never keep women.
Because he’d never wanted to before. After splashing some cool water on his face and using a spare toothbrush he found in the tiny cabinet, he was calm enough to use the bathroom.
When he walked out, she was wearing a pair of ankle boots with actual purple bows on them. And a thin, old jacket.
“Is that the only coat you have?”
“Ahh, well, I’ve got my velvet jacket, but it’s raining outside.”
It was. Crap.
“Fine. Come on.”
She eyed him. “Are you sure you want to take me out for breakfast? I mean, you don’t have to just because we fucked.”
He blinked at her. Sometimes, her bluntness took him by surprise. Would another woman just ask him like that? They might hint at it, but Maeve just laid it out there.
“I know. I’m not taking you out because we fucked.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he said firmly, moving to the door. She grabbed her handbag, which was covered in gold and silver sequins and had two eyes on the front. The eyes moved and had huge eyelashes. It should have looked creepy, but was actually kind of cute.
“Is it because I burned the bacon?”
He shrugged, not answering. It was because he was worried that she wasn’t eating properly. And that for at least one meal, she wouldn’t be eating Pop-Tarts or toast.
He led her out of the building and to his truck.
“Whoa, I forgot about your truck. You’re lucky it still has tires on,” she stated as he opened her door and lifted her in.
He grunted then shut her door. If any fucker had touched his truck, they’d be dead.
Climbing in, he glanced at her as she ran her hand over the dashboard. She snatched it back. “Sorry. It’s just shiny.”
“You like shiny things?”
“Doesn’t everyone? Where are we going? I like pancakes.”
He wanted to insist that she eat something healthier than pancakes. But he didn’t exactly have the right. He’d get some food into her, drop her back home, then tell her that he couldn’t see her again.
Because the more time he spent with her, the more he liked her.
And that couldn’t happen.
Maeve dug into her pancakes with gusto. She was aware that Gray was watching her. He looked slightly disapproving. She wasn’t sure if it was the pile of pancakes, the mounds of syrup, or the whipped cream she’d put on top.
Yeah, she knew that she shouldn’t eat this much sugar. Her hips weren’t going to thank her. But it had been so long since she’d gotten to eat out like this. And she figured this would last her through to dinner time.
Gray had a full breakfast that looked pretty good too with eggs, bacon, sausages, and hash browns. When she couldn’t fit anything more inside her, she sat back with a satisfied sigh, patting her tummy.
“Yummo.”
Gray raised an eyebrow. He was so serious this morning. She thought he’d be in a better mood after getting some sleep.
“You’ve got some syrup on your face.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s for later.”
He looked so surprised that she giggled. “Joking. Where is it? Here?” She wiped her chin.
“Ah, yes, and there.” He pointed to the other side of her face. She wiped at it.
Ick. Sticky.
Gray sighed, then grabbed a napkin and dipped it into his glass of water. He held her chin, wiping her face clean and he wasn’t exactly gentle about it. But she sat there and took it. Because he was taking care of her. And it made her insides dance with happiness.
“All good?” she asked when he was finished. “Am I pretty again?”
It was meant to be a joke, but his eyes darkened appreciatively. “You’re always pretty.”
She could feel herself blushing. “Thank you.”
He gave a nod. When the waitress brought over the check, he drew out three twenty-dollar bills and left them on the table.
She glanced at the bill. It was for thirty-seven dollars. She couldn’t work out what percentage tip that was, she’d always been terrible with numbers. But even she could tell that it was a lot. That made her like him all the more. Which was probably silly.
“So, what are you doing with your day?” she asked as she skipped along beside him. Ooh, a puddle. She went to jump in it, then thought twice as she didn’t have her rain boots on. That was a shame. She hadn’t jumped in a puddle for ages.
She loved puddle jumping.
The gray sky danced angrily above them despite the reprieve in the rain. Ahh, well, she guessed it was the perfect day to get some work done.
“Stuff,” he told her, lifting her into his truck again.
He made her feel so small when he did that. She liked that too.
“Stuff is good,” she said cheerfully after he climbed in and started the truck. “I like doing stuff.”
He didn’t reply and she felt a thick clump of disappointment fill her tummy. Had he brought her out for breakfast so he could butter her up? Because then he thought rejecting her wouldn’t hurt so badly? Because it felt like that’s where this was going.