Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
A part of me is dying to explore the rest of the amenities while I still have the bus all to myself. But there's the other part of me that's feeling really, really sleepy. And when I experience for myself just how comfy the recliner seat is, and ooooh. One push of a button has its massage function working pure magic on my back muscles, and...zzzz.
The bus is already on the move when I wake up. The sun has also started to set when I glance outside my window. I'm guessing I've been out for two hours at most?
I switch off the massage function with a yawn. Thank you, technology elves. I do a little stretch as I turn...and my heart drops to my stomach when my gaze meets a pair of painfully familiar cowboy boots.
You have got to be kidding me.
I squeeze my eyes shut in hopes that I'm hallucinating for the first time in my life. But when I open my eyes again, those shoes are still there. And they're still attached to the same pair of denim-clad legs.
Ugh.
Mr. Let's-Not-Forget-He's-Shameless-Too is seated right next to me, and I have a feeling that's no coincidence at all. He's obviously developed a taste for yanking my chain for whatever reason, but...I shall not let myself be provoked.
Because I'm a sensible adult.
Plus the fact that I owe him $150, literally.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I give my self-control a quick check one last time—
Yup, all good, still working.
—before finally lifting my gaze, and oh...no.
Why does he have to be the most beautiful man I've ever seen?
Why can't it be someone else?
Or just anyone really...except him?
I know I should stop staring, but seeing his annoyingly long lashes fanned against his bronzed skin presents a temptation I'm unable to resist. I just can't get over the sheer handsomeness of his features. How can someone with an attitude that leaves a lot to be desired...look so unbelievably desirable at the same time?
Every inch of him seems to have been crafted to tempt women to sin. The strong jaw. The high-boned cheeks. The very broadness of his shoulders and the mesmerizing expanse of his chest. Even his dark hair can make Claude die with envy: what this man's sable-black locks did naturally, my ex actually has to style his hair for hours, and all for the sake of his tortured-poet-persona.
This man is lethally better than Claude in every way, and...ugh, ugh, ugh.
I can't believe I did it again.
I've actually wasted precious time mooning over his looks—
"Enjoying the view, darling?"
—even if every word this horribly annoying man says makes me want to kick him in the mouth.
Manners maketh the man, sir, I'm almost tempted to growl at him. How can he not know that?A whirring sound shatters the silence then, and his recliner seat inches back into its 110-degree-angle at the push of a button. Lazy amber-colored eyes lock with mine as he finally turns to face me, and his lips slowly unleash the cockiest smirk I've ever seen.
Grrrr.
I would've given him the cold shoulder if I could, but since I do remember owing him money—
"Thank you for earlier," I manage to say instead as I open my purse. "I would've paid you back if you hadn't—"
"How about we agree to call a truce," he murmurs, "and I'll consider your debt fully paid."
I'm already putting my money back to where it still belongs even when he has yet to finish speaking. Beggars can't be choosers, 'Nuff said.
"So...why Hartland?"
I shrug, turning to stare out the window at the passing landscape. The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the plains we're crossing. Each mile that passes is another mile between me and my old life. Between me and Claude's betrayal.
"It's a nice little town," he continues, "but rather remote."
"I like remote." I like anywhere Claude isn't.
"Even if it means not being able to access the Internet unless you're in Laramie?"
That's precisely why I'm choosing it, I can't help thinking, but I also choose to keep the words to myself. Once burned, twice shy, yada, yada, yada.
His lips twitch at my continued silence. "Am I really that hard to trust?"
I turn to face him then, really look at him. Despite his arrogance, there's something magnetic about him that draws me in. Something dangerous.
"You don't need to take it personally. I'm like this with everyone."
"Since when?"
There is no way I'm going to answer that.
"Two weeks ago?" he persists, his voice softening in a way that makes my defenses waver. "A month? A year? I'm guessing this isn't how you've always been."
His expression turns serious. "Did someone hurt you? Is that why you're keeping everyone at arm's length?"
Because he's already figured it out, blast it.
"Stop talking like you know me—"
"I know I don't," he says evenly. "But at the same time, it doesn't exactly take rocket science to guess what's turned you into a prickly little thing."