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)
It’s how I cope with not having any outside space.
Then there’s the nightmare kitchen, the spices crowding the counter from the last time I cooked and didn’t have the mental energy to put them away.
There’s the enormous old water stain on the ceiling and the paint peeling off the walls with spidering cracks around every window.
God, it’s a mess.
I’m a hot mess, and he gets to see me at peak ugly.
“It’s very… green in here,” he finally says. A fair comment—it is green. And considering everything else, it’s about the nicest thing he could say about the war zone.
Just then, there’s a raspy squeak by our legs. I look down just in time to see the hairiest cat alive adding his fur to Dexter’s immaculate pants.
“This is Catness,” I say stiffly as the meower sniffs, rubbing his head on Dex’s shin. “He’s not usually good with strangers, so don’t mind him. Much. If you need it, I can grab you a lint roller.”
Dex crouches and holds out a hand to Catness.
Whatever else I expected, it’s definitely not that.
“Nah, I like animals. They’re easier than people,” he tells me as my traitorous feline forgets his usual stranger-danger ways and plows his little face into Dexter’s hand with brisk snorts.
Great.
The man who screws me up the most just has to have a magic kinship with cats.
“Do you want to sit?” I gesture to a sofa that’s now laundry free. “Sorry about the mess, I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“No, it’s my fault.” He sits and Catness immediately leaps on the arm of the chair beside him.
I retrieve my dinner and sit back down too, digging in to escape the embarrassment. “I hope you don’t mind. You kinda caught me at dinnertime.”
He nods.
Inwardly, I’m shriveling up into a prune. Humiliation of the Dexter Rory kind will do that.
Last time we met, I was so drunk I kissed his face off. Or let him kiss me into the next century. Or something.
And worse—I think we both liked it.
I know I did.
I liked it so flipping much that if he’d been anyone else, I might have invited him up when he dropped me off. Even now, I’ve been replaying the memory a thousand times over. God, I never imagined a man this cold could feel so hot.
I never thought anyone could make me feel so good, just aching to burst into flames and walk through the fire.
I stuff my face for a few bites, looking for a distraction.
That kiss is the absolute last thing I want to be thinking about right now, especially when he’s right beside me, his knee close enough to brush mine.
“Guess you didn’t get my messages,” he says.
Oof. I should’ve known he’d bring that up pretty fast.
“No, I got them. I answered the texts, didn’t I? The rest, I’ve just been… busy. It’s a sugar pusher thing you wouldn’t understand. The cupcake game doesn’t sleep in this city.” I force a smile that feels as flimsy as my pride right now.
Honestly, I’ve just been busy trying not to think about the kiss and failing. I’ve been busy ignoring my own feelings, where I can’t begin to sort up from down and right from oh-so-wrong.
The kiss that must be forgotten short-circuited my brain.
“Sure. I wanted to come over and apologize in person, anyway. You deserve that much after the shit I pulled over dinner.” He scratches Catness’ head as my feline betrayer crawls on his knee and purrs.
I wonder if he can hear my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. I’m afraid I already know what he’s going to say.
It’s what I want him to say, but having him actually say it hits different, somehow.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you, Junie,” he says, looking everywhere but me. Guess he’s all kinds of tangled up, too. I should be glad we’re embarrassed together. “It was unprofessional and wrong. One big damn mistake after the last one dragging you into this. We were both stressed about the situation and we screwed ourselves over—and I admit I did most of the screwing.”
One big damn mistake.
He couldn’t have just left it at mistake period?
Did I just get too into it because, unlike him, I drank four glasses of wine over dinner?
And here I am with more wine…
“Yeah. We were swept up in the moment,” I say slowly.
“It was intense,” he says. “Still, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you. I’m sorry.”
Taken advantage of me?
Oh, hell, no.
I pivot around to face him, tucking my legs under me.
“Okay, hold up. First of all, I might have had a few drinks too many, but I was just as present as you were.” I jab my spoon at him. “You suggested it as a way of persuading Gran and it worked. She’s a believer. She’s thrilled for us. We accomplished our mission and there’s no shame in that.”