Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
I almost grabbed his shirt and jerked him back, demanding he do the other thing. I knew what I needed, and that little threat sounded perfect. But I didn’t because he had said the word wine, and I was back to the issue that had brought me to the bathroom, armed, to begin with.
“We can’t drink that wine, and you should search the place with your gun if you have it on you,” I said. “Since you took my knife away.”
“We can drink the wine. I bought the wine. You had just drunk your first bottle of good red wine and found you liked it. All you have is the screw-top white wine shit. So, I replaced yours,” he said.
I stopped walking, and since he had me around the wrist, he stopped, too, then turned back to me.
“When did you replace my wine, and how do you know all that?” I asked him, watching his face carefully.
A smirk. God, that freaking smirk. He hadn’t shaved in over a week, at least two, and that was insanely sexy, as if he needed any added help in that department.
“Saturday night,” he said as if I should know this. “The sloth.”
Oh. Right. The visit I didn’t remember. How long had he been here, and what all had I told the man? Here I was, accusing Toby of talking about himself too much, but it seemed I had given Oz my own life story.
“You had a lot to drink for such a small, untrained body,” he said, then gently tugged my arm. “Will you come drink it now that you are safe from a stalker and I swear it isn’t drugged? I will drink the first glass.”
I nodded and started to walk, then stopped again.
“Wait. So, you came by with the sloth on Saturday night. It was during that visit that I had drunk the red wine and told you I liked it. When did you come back with the bottle in the kitchen?” I was thinking about this too hard. I realized that, but there was some niggling in my gut that I couldn’t satisfy. And it was a good question.
His amused chuckle as he gave his head a small shake and looked at me through those thick lashes made my panties wet instantly.
“I had the bottle I gave you in my Hummer. Sundays, I stop by my parents’ for dinner most of the time. That is my mom’s favorite wine. I’d bought her a bottle earlier that day, and I went and got it, then brought it to you. I figured you’d appreciate it more than she would. I picked her up flowers on Sunday before I went over there instead.”
Everything that had just come out of his delectable mouth had the warm tingles running amok under my skin and between my legs. I felt guilty for questioning him now. No more crime TV shows for me. Really, that was it. They were making me act looney.
“That’s very sweet,” I said.
He lowered his lashes. “Darlin’, don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m sweet,” he said. Then, his eyes did a leisurely once-over of me. “Unless that eases your mind and you can relax and trust me.”
I needed ice. My body could use some to cool down. We were well past a fan.
Twenty-Seven
Oz
“When I asked you to choose something, I wasn’t aware it was going to be this difficult,” I said, amused by the length of time it was taking Winslet to decide on a movie or show on Netflix. According to my app, our food would be here in five minutes.
She cut her eyes at me. “I normally go for crime shows or murder mysteries, but I have decided to cut those out,” she explained. “I have no idea what is good.”
I remembered the Satan show she had been watching on Saturday night. No, not Satan. Lucifer.
“What about Lucifer?” I suggested. Since she now believed I’d stopped for a visit while she was drunk, it was safe to admit I knew she had been watching it that night.
She flicked her pretty brown eyes back at me. “That falls squarely in the center of crime TV.”
It did?
She must have read the confusion on my face, and she smiled.
“You’ve never seen it, have you?”
I shook my head.
“Then, why did you suggest it?”
Curious little bee. I wasn’t mad about it. She was smart. That would help me keep her safe.
“Saturday night,” I offered.
Her nose scrunched. “Right. Keep forgetting that.”
There was a little guilt there that I was lying to her, but she didn’t trust me. I was sure she wouldn’t handle it well that I’d been coming to check on her nightly for the past two months. Although I had potentially saved her life numerous times.
“How is Lucifer crime TV?” I asked her just because I liked it when she talked. Get her explaining something, and she got animated.