Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“Oh, man, I’d love to enlighten you another time. I’ve pissed Dex off enough for one day, which means my work here is done. You watch this guy,” Patton tells her, jerking his thumb at me. “He’s always been the funny one in the family.”
“Patton. Out. Now.” I can’t form coherent sentences anymore through the red haze over my vision.
“Don’t forget my report!” he calls as he heads to the door—fucking finally. “It’s a risk, but I think it’ll be worth it.”
Yeah, whatever.
He thought the same about Forrest Haute, too, and look how that’s paying off. I hate to admit Patton gave us the kick in the ass we needed, downplaying Archer’s objections when he went digging through Haute’s old dirt.
He pauses at the door and smiles at Juniper again.
“I trust he’ll treat you nicely,” he says before flashing me a devilish look. “My stone-cold brother, engaged. Never thought we’d see the day. Just wait until Mom hears about this.”
“Mom? You better fucking not!” I slam the door right in his leering face and lean against it like I’m holding back a dragon.
I’m not sure it’s much improvement since I’ve stranded myself with a siren.
I’m alone with her now.
Alone with her autumn hair softly curling around her face and her lit green eyes and a knitted sweater that looks like it’s been molded to her frame. Shit, who gave this girl tits that are just the right size for filling a man’s palm?
“So,” she says, quirking an eyebrow. “That was your brother? Are you guys close?”
“Closer every day to beating him senseless,” I bite off, gesturing to the sofa and ready to be done with this conversation. “The brains in the family skipped him, but believe it or not, he’s an idiot savant when it comes to sniffing out new opportunities.”
Juniper laughs. Of course, it’s sweeter than her death-bringing pastries. “You’re lucky. Must be nice having a brother.”
I snort. “I have two, unfortunately, and there’s nothing nice about either.”
I’m weirdly annoyed and relieved when she sits as far away from me as possible at the end of the sofa. She looks around the room, taking in my workspace, which is only fair after my visits to the Sugar Bowl. She stops and lingers on the diagonal stripes of red along the walls—three different shades creating a certain rhythm—and the painted red cardinal on my desk.
“Interesting style for an office. It looks more like a lounge in here. Is this a real estate thing?” she asks, linking her fingers together.
Goddamn, her nerves are making me nervous.
“It’s partly a family thing and partly meant to impress potential partners. Judging by your reaction, it works,” I tell her. “Anyway, would you like a drink before we get started?”
“Just some water, please.”
I grab a bottle from the mini fridge behind me and pass it off to her. She chews her lip before taking a sip.
“I wasn’t late,” she says, glancing up at me through her eyelashes. “That means you have to be nice.”
“It means I won’t be an asshole,” I say with a shrug. “There’s a premium for nice and dealing with Patton just doubled it.”
“Was that a joke?” Her eyebrow quirks up again. “And for the record, Patton Rory seems like the nicer one.”
I clear my throat.
Fuck, I almost regret saying anything. I need her on my side.
More, I need her to commit to this fake relationship bullshit before she has another breakdown on the phone because someone’s asking questions she doesn’t know how to answer.
“So, let’s get on with it. Where do you think we met?” she asks, curling her legs up under her. “Someone like you and someone like me… it’s not an easy match.”
I think back to when she barged in on me at home, dramatically ending my evening workout.
“Fitness group? Or the gym? We could say it was a local hiking group, too. I’m partial to those every other year when I’m training for the marathon.”
“Eesh. Way too physical,” she says hastily, shaking her head. A lock of that red hair spills past her face and she tucks it behind her ear.
It’s so odd how she feels close even though she’s a good three feet away from me.
I idly wonder what her hair feels like.
How silky it must be tangled up in a fist, drawing her in, training that mouth of hers to show some respect.
Is the rest of her hair that red?
If I slid a hand between her legs and jerked down her panties, would I be greeted with fire-red curls inviting my tongue to the flesh below, begging to be teased and sucked and—
“Hold on. Maybe you met me when you came in to place an order,” she suggests. “You know—like you actually did.”
I shake my head, fighting to banish the hard-on I shouldn’t fucking have while I’m staring at her.