Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 91079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I take a step closer. He takes a step back.
“What are you doing?”
“I kinda want to tell you, but sorta don’t. I’m pretty sure you’ll freak out. But I’m only doing it because you’re that guy, you know?”
“What guy?”
“THAT guy!” I point at him. All gorgeous. Just like the books say. Intimidating as shit too. He’s even got the hair right. The stance. The height. Width. Breath of shoulders. So perfect. Like he just stepped out of one of those—
“Get out of my house. And make damn sure I never see your face again.”
I jerk at his angry growl and quickly nod. “I completely understand. How about a hug?” Surefire way to smell him…you know? For research. Only chance I might ever have.
Holding open my arms, I take another step forward. He takes another step back.
“Get the fuck out of my house!” So explosive!
“Geeze. Okay.” Panty-melting, too. Ugh. Why do I like the difficult ones?
“And take your dog shit with you!”
“I am!” I shoot him a really nasty look and grab my bag of dog shit.
I stomp away. Barefoot. Half naked. Horny…
My face morphs from a scowl to a frown. Eyes wide, lip trembling, I give him my best poor face. “Mr. Swagger?” Wow. There’s even a quiver in my voice. I’m so good… “Do you mind if I use your dryer? My jeans got wet and—“
He stalks toward me on a mission. To kill me? I refuse to risk my life just for a sniff, so I jump over the couch and sprint to the door—grabbing my clothes in my haste.
For a moment, I contemplate faking a fall just to see if he’ll help me up. That fades when he gets within reaching distance of me.
“Wait! My phone!” I yell before he can slam the door. He snatches my phone off the table and tosses it to me. I fumble with my boots and jacket and lunge for the damn thing. I catch it, because I’m a Ninja, but it still pisses me off.
“You’re a real asshole!”
He slams the door—not even bothering to make eye contact as he looks down at his own phone. I throw my shoes at the door, feeling a little bit of satisfaction at the dried mud that scatters as I do.
I glance at the door as I shuffle into my damp jeans and pull on my wet sneakers. It should only take seconds, but I drag it out longer. Part of me hopes he’ll open the to see if I’m still here. Even if he only does it to yell at me, I wouldn’t mind seeing his face once more before I leave. Maybe I could even snap a picture.
The door never opens. Disappointed, yet not at all surprised, I step into the elevator and place my nose in the corner. I try not to dwell on what will happen if the brakes on this bastard fail, and instead think about how lucky I am.
He didn’t call the police.
He let me walk away.
What would have happened had I came home and someone was in my apartment? I would have freaked. Unless of course my intruder looked like Jake Swagger. Then I would have forced him to have sex with me in exchange for me not dialing 9-1-1.
The instant I clamber out of the death trap, I’m met with a still-pissed Alfred. He sneers and I have to bite my cheek so I don’t tell him how unattractive it is.
“Mr. Swagger wants you off the premises immediately. So instead of waiting for a cab, he’s instructed Ross to drive you to your hotel.”
Alfred’s anger makes me feel like shit. I could’ve cost him his job. My actions might still result in consequence for him.
“I’m sorry, Alfred. Truly. I never meant to get anyone in trouble.”
His hard gaze softens the tiniest bit. It’s not much, but at least it’s something. He nods once and turns on his heel. I follow him into the lobby. On the other side of the glass that stretches the front of the building, everything is white. Snow continues to fall in slanted, thick sheets.
So this is what a blizzard looks like.
A lesser woman might cry if she found herself in my situation.
But I don’t cry.
Ever.
Am I disheartened? Feeling a little defeated?
Yes.
But it’s going to take more than a lot of snow and a really hot dickhead to make me cry.
Alfred looks down at me. His disapproval evident. He disappears through a door then returns with a hat and coat. “It’s not the most fashionable, but it’s better than what you have.” I take the offered clothes without looking at them as he picks up the phone next to the podium. “What is the name of your hotel?”
“I don’t have a hotel. My plane leaves in three hours.”
He nods. “Ross, would you mind driving…the young lady to the airport, please? Yes. Okay. Thank you.”