Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
He gives me a smug look. “Right.”
“I noticed there’s only one bed.”
“Great observation. The couch is yours, Sunshine. Good night.”
“Whoa, I don’t think so.” I keep eye contact, but it’s hard not to linger lower.
He shrugs, then takes the stairs.
I scoff. “I can’t sleep on that brick!”
“You’ll be fine,” Finn says as I follow him up to his room. “I wouldn’t come up here.”
He moves toward his dresser and opens one of the drawers. Without warning, the towel falls to the floor into a crumpled heap. My eyes widen as I explore the muscles cascading down his back and ass. I lose my ability to speak and groan before storming back downstairs without a plan.
My heart slams against my chest, but I try to breathe through it.
“Good night,” he says, then I hear his faint chuckle, but I don’t find any of this funny. At this point, I’m convinced he’s trying to get a rise out of me. The lights upstairs flick off.
“I need a pillow and a blanket!” I shout.
A moment later, something flies from the loft and plops on the floor in front of the couch.
“Nice.” I shake my head, scooping up the items and throwing them on the couch. If I could put a curse on him, I would.
“I think you’re the one who’s Satan,” I shout, but he doesn't respond.
I go to my duffel bag and search for my phone charger, then plug it in so I can text-rant to my sister. I try to list everything that’s happened in the past twelve hours, and my heart pounds as fast as my thoughts. Even my fingers struggle to keep up. Once I press send, I impatiently wait for her response because right now, I’m ready to quit the whole project and go home.
Tatum: OMG, that’s a lot to take in. What can I do to help?
Oakley: Fly here and kick his ass, then make him go stay at his grandma’s.
The thought has me chuckling because I can imagine Tatum doing it in her assertive older sister tone.
Tatum: He can’t be that bad.
Oakley: He is. Plus, nothing seems to be going my way, and I’m growing more frustrated. Maybe I should just leave? Maybe I’m not cut out for this after all.
Tatum: You can’t quit, sis. Don’t let him get to you. Just gotta play him at his own game, ya know? You’re not intimidated by his good looks, are you?
I grind my teeth and playfully roll my eyes even though she can’t see me.
Oakley: Ugh.
Tatum: Maybe that’s HIS problem? He finds you attractive and doesn’t like that he does.
Oakley: Very doubtful. I’m stressed about this bed situation. I can’t sleep on this damn couch and have enough energy to paint all day tomorrow. It’s not even long enough.
Tatum: How big is his bed?
Oakley: It’s big-big. King size. Two adults could sleep comfortably without touching.
I imagine feeling his warmth lying next to me and swallow hard as I read Tatum’s next words.
Tatum: Then just crawl in there with him. If he’s asleep, he won’t even realize it until morning.
Oakley: I don’t know. He seems like the type to be an even bigger asshole in his sleep. He’d probably sleep-kick me.
Tatum: You need to show him that you won’t back down when it comes to your job. Then remind him again that he chose this. He made his bed, and now he has to share it, HA!
I snort at her analogy.
Oakley: Maybe you’re right.
I contemplate it.
Tatum: Well…Easton says you shouldn’t do it. But I’m your sister, and I know what’s best. Quality sleep is more important than pissing off this guy.
Oakley: I’ll think it over and will update you if he kicks me to the hills.
Tatum: Great! Good night. Get some rest.
I open my sketchbook and glance over what I have, trying to fully visualize the scene. The fence and structures, the pond and blue skies—it’s as vibrant in my memory as it is in real life. I quickly add more to the drawing, then decide to let it marinate until morning.
I happily text Tatum and tell her I’ve finalized my idea.
Tatum: Did you go up there yet?
Oakley: No. I’m going now. Wish me luck ;)
Tatum: You’ve got this, sis. Just be quiet like a mouse!
I flick off the kitchen light and stumble my way in the dark past the couch. Quietly, I listen for noise at the bottom of the stairs. I focus so hard that I swear I can hear him breathing from down here.
A shot of adrenaline rushes through me as I take the first step and then the second. Halfway up, one of the stairs screams so loud that I nearly jump out of my skin. I stop and listen for rustling but only silence lingers.
When I finally make it to the top of the loft, I freeze. Finn is under the comforter with his back toward me. It’s now or never.