Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Which, honestly, tracks. That’s how I came up with the idea in the first place. There’s just something about being put down by the opposite sex that makes the insecure, but horny, inner sex fiend perk up and take notice. It’s how I ended up dating Wendell Windham for a few months right after high school.
Old Wendell wasn’t much to look at—he had a horrific name and a habit of chewing with his mouth open—but he was in my fashion-merchandizing class at the community college, so we had similar interests, and he was just so good at putting me down. He handed out insults like bespoke mints on my pillow before bed, always with a smile and a wink, so I wasn’t sure if he meant the snarky things or not.
I found the uncertainty and the quest to prove I wasn’t childish or airheaded oddly captivating. Apparently, a part of Matty finds negative feedback captivating, too.
As I wash my face, change into my pajamas, and tuck myself into bed, I consider doubling down on the tactic tomorrow. I’ll have the entire morning with him. If I do a really good job, I might get him so worked up, he’ll agree to letting me tag along on his Sweetwater-soothing mission without making a fuss.
But even as the idea flits through my head, I dismiss it. I don’t want to be mean to Matty. And I don’t want to keep throwing myself at a man who is determined to hold me at arm’s length. I just have to face the fact that this isn’t going to happen. Even if it makes my heart shrivel.
I press a hand to my chest under the covers, pretty sure I can feel the shriveling getting worse with every passing second.
But then a soft whump sounds from the end of the bed. I feel the covers sink by my feet and open my eyes to see eyes shining in the darkness.
“Clyde?” I murmur. “Are you okay?”
Clyde answers with a meow-belch that makes me smile as he curls up on top of the comforter beside my hip. My smile widens as I whisper, “Yeah, you can sleep with me. Sweet dreams, buddy.”
Maybe growing old as a single human won’t be so bad, after all. Now that I’ve conquered my fear of cats—or at least of Clyde, who is surely representative of many cats who share his sweet temperament—I can become an eccentric cat lady. I’ll live alone with my cats in a tower in the woods and throw radishes out the window at any man who dares step foot on my property.
Why radishes?
It just feels like the right thing to throw at unwanted suitors, and I’m not about to cry about skipping radish in my salad. Radishes are very aggressive on the palate, and that’s the last thing you want when you’re trying not to think about kissing or other fun, sexy things you can do with your tongue.
I fall asleep, hoping for dreams of my charming, witchy tower.
Instead, I dream of Matty’s treehouse.
Specifically, of me naked in Matty’s treehouse…
And Matty doing wicked things to me with his tongue between my thighs while he tells me how much he wants to fuck me. I reach for him, pressing his talented mouth tighter to where I ache as I get closer, closer…
So very close…
“Nora!”
I wake with a gasp and a hand pressed to my heart. “I’m awake. I’m awake, Gram, I won’t miss the bus, I promise.” I blink, pulling the man standing in the doorway into focus.
Damn, Matty looks even better with dark scruff shadowing his jaw.
“Hey. Hi,” I mumble, pushing my hair from my face. “Sorry, did I sleep through my alarm?”
“No,” he says, watching me with concern. “You just sounded like you were having a nightmare. There was a lot of moaning.”
Moaning? Oh, God…
“Yeah, nightmare.” I nod so hard it summons a disgruntled meow from Clyde, who moved up to sleep on the pillow next to my head at some point during the night. “Really bad. There were so many…zombies.”
“Zombies?” His brows lift.
“Yeah. And I was a zombie, too, and I couldn’t stop moaning for brains. It was pretty wild.” I sit up, forcing a bright smile. “But I’m awake now. All’s well that ends well. How about you? How did you sleep?”
“Pretty good. I thought Clyde was going to keep me awake fighting with my socks for a while, but then he decided to find a prettier sleeping partner.” He motions toward the entrance to the bathroom. “I was going to jump in the shower. Do you need the bathroom first?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m good, thanks.”
As soon as he steps into the bathroom, and I hear the water start to spray, I turn to Clyde, drawing his drowsy body onto my lap. “I’m not good,” I whisper as I stroke his rounded belly and his first belch of the morning turns into a purr. “I need a muzzle or something. Or a sound machine.” Making a mental note to ask the front desk if they have white noise machines—the better to sleep tonight without worrying about Matty overhearing my sexy dream sounds—I carry Clyde into the front room and fetch some of the white rice and cat food mixture we brought along from the treehouse from the fridge.