Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“Hey, Faris?” Just past the stairs that hide her front door from the world, I turn back. Her arms are wide away from her sides, head tilted, the crack of a smile revealing itself. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know anymore.” Truth laid bare. I’m lost when it comes to her.
“I packed my bikini for the lake.” She plays dirty.
I look down, trying to hide the grin that will surely offend if caught on my face. But visions of her in a bikini aren’t easily swept from my head. “What are you saying?”
Her expression softens as she lowers her arms and clasps her hands in front of her. “We should get on the road. The day will disappear before we know it. You know how LA traffic is.”
Our eyes stay fixed for a few seconds before I return to the back of her Toyota. I don’t think we need to have a long-drawn-out conversation. There’s no impasse keeping us from moving forward this time. “Pop the trunk.”
She walks to my car, parked two over, and says, “I was thinking we could ride together.”
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
Shifting on her feet, she moves around me and quirks a smirk. “Maybe we’ll leave the keys on the counter.”
I look down at the keys in my hand. “The keys to my custom-designed Ferrari? My initials were hand-embroidered on the driver’s headrest.”
She kicks a tire as if checking for air. I flinch from witnessing the abuse. “These look like an upgrade as well.”
“They were,” I reply, not liking where this is heading.
“Let me guess, custom?”
“Took two months to make.” I look at the car, then at her again. “I’m starting to think you don’t understand the gravity of the—”
“Circumstances? I probably understand better than you do as the hostage in this situation.”
Unfortunately, I can’t argue with her. “I’ll leave the keys on the hook by the door. If you want to leave, they’ll be there. Or you can hold on to them all weekend if you prefer. Should I add you to my policy?”
“Not totally unwise. I’ve been in a few little collisions here and there. Once with a curb at In n’ Out Burger that messed up my alignment. Someone dumbly put a concrete pole inside a parking spot at a Target.” She raises a finger like a thought just occurred to her. “And then there was the time—”
“Okay. Got your point. I’ll make the call.” I don’t care that much about the car, though I keep her spotless and make sure she’s maintained.
She starts to laugh. “I was kind of teasing about the escape.”
I flip the front seat forward to put her stuff inside. “What about the accidents?”
“No, those are true.”
“Greaaat,” I say, trying to breathe through the scenario of her wrecking my car that’s currently playing through my head like a movie in slow motion.
“What’s this?”
I look at the front seat where she’s found the itinerary. “I know you like to know what your day looks like, so I printed out a schedule for you.” I’m not saying she cries, but she blinks back some water in her eyes.
“It’s printed on cardstock. Pink cardstock.” I spy her eyes stealing a peek of me before they return to the cardstock.
“Since I was printing it anyway—”
“Thank you.” Her hand covers her chest as her gaze runs down the schedule. Glancing back at him between the seats, she says, “I’ve never felt more seen in my life.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“It is to me.” She props it up against the console and shuts the door. I’m adjusting the seat back into place when she comes around the back of the car. I lift to my height, and our eyes meet. It’s not a big smile, but it is one that feels genuine and for me. “That was very thoughtful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Who knew printing an itinerary out would win the day? Wait until she sees what else I have in store for her.
She steps to the side but then stops and asks, “What is the retreat at eight p.m. tomorrow night?”
I lean against the car and debate how much I want to tell her. “I know you want to know all the details, but do you mind going along with a few of them? It will involve trusting me. I haven’t earned, but—”
“You’ll earn it back by tomorrow night?”
“I intend to.” I nod.
She nods. “Okay. Can’t wait to see what you have up your sleeve besides that new tattoo you’re currently hiding.” Oh shit. She knows . . .
That tattoo has become such a part of me that I forgot about it being revealed this weekend. That’s a conversation I’ll ease into, preferably after a few beers.
Walking back to the apartment, she says, “I’m going to lock up. Need anything?”
Her and a second chance. She’s giving me both. What more could I ask for? “Do you have a bottle of water?” Except that. I’m thirsty, and I wasn’t planning on stopping.