Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
All the droll remarks I’d made about being so shocked by how smart and intelligent she was, how beautiful she was, I was just being typical me. Not thinking of the harm in it.
But I realized I’d probably been inflicting much harm indeed.
“I know I’m a cold-hearted sod sometimes, and I can’t promise not to be myself, but I can promise that from now on, I will never poke fun at your intelligence or worthiness again.”
Sarah’s lips parted in shock and then her expression softened in a way that scared the shit out of me.
So I pushed away my plate and pulled out my wallet and added blandly, “Thank goodness you realized you’re far from stupid or you wouldn’t be enjoying someone as menseful as I am.”
She snorted. “You’re not at all well-behaved or particularly polite. I’d say you were more jaculiferous than menseful.”
Grinning, I stood, holding out a hand to help her from the table. “You think I’m prickly, little mouse?”
“As a porcupine.”
“I have never been accused of prickliness before.” I narrowed my eyes at her teasing. “But I shall try to refrain from being jaculiferous in the future.”
Sarah sighed dreamily. “It’s such a good word.”
My smile was so wide, it almost hurt as I stared down at her, resisting the urge to pull her into my side. “It is an excellent word.” We strode together to the counter to pay, and I waved away her hand as she held out her card. “Mendaciloquent is also a good word.”
“To tell lies,” she defined.
Good lord, she really did have the most exceptional vocabulary.
“It sounds better when you say it in your posh accent,” she teased.
“Everything sounds better in my posh accent.”
“True.” Her gaze flittered to the handsome tourist from earlier before coming back to me. “Though other accents are nice as well.”
Had the tourist spoken with an accent? I hadn’t heard him speak. Frowning, I paid for the meal, left a tip, and then took Sarah by the elbow, blocking her view of the tourist as I led her out. “How about crepuscular?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I think it sounds more like something that grows on a wound than anything relating to twilight.”
I threw my head back, laughing as I held open the door for her. “This is why you’re a writer.”
Sarah threw me a wide grin over her shoulder as she walked out of the restaurant, and I ignored a sharp twinge in my chest at the sight of it and followed her. In a desperate attempt to feel anything but that, I lobbed unusual words to test her and chuckled at her smug success with every one of them.
Nine
SARAH
“Iput the fire on!” Theo shouted from the living room.
The coastal winter chill cut through my knitted cardigan. I grabbed the mugs of hot tea, delighting in the rush of heat up my arms, and hurried from the kitchen into the living room. My thick socks had slipped and were getting dangerously close to tripping me up.
Thankfully, Theo crossed the room to take the mugs, and I smiled at the sight of the flickering flames in the wall inset as I bent down to pull up my socks. “It’s my first time using the fire.”
The bungalow had a gas fireplace mounted inside the wall that was far more modern than the rest of the surroundings.
“It’s bloody hyperborean,” Theo muttered, sniffing the tea.
I smiled. He couldn’t just say it was cold.
He held out one of the mugs to me, and I assumed it was my chamomile. Theo liked peppermint.
I tried not to stare at him as he sipped, his gaze drawn toward the large picture window. It was now November and another two weeks had passed. Theo had been here for three weeks in total. It strangely didn’t feel that long, while at the same time, it felt like he’d been here forever.
We’d fallen into a comfortable routine that I never would’ve imagined in my wildest dreams. We both woke up roughly around the same early hour. We’d have a cup of coffee and something to eat and then take turns showering and readying for the day. If the weather permitted, we’d go for a companionable walk on the beach only to return to write. We’d break for lunch either at home or we’d venture out, and then we’d review the script.
In the evening, Theo would tease me about my lack of television while we watched a movie or TV show together on either one of our laptops.
It felt easy and natural, like we’d been doing this our whole lives.
Conversation didn’t stall, and we talked about nearly everything and nothing. The only thing we didn’t venture into was the past. Theo Cavendish had walls built around his heart that were at least a mile high and constructed of solid ice.
If that bothered me, I ignored it, just as I ignored my growing attraction to him. Before, I’d thought him handsome and I’d had a creative crush on him. Now, I didn’t know what I felt. I just knew it was more. Physically and emotionally.