Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
I can’t believe that bastard ate my donuts!
I know being this angry over donuts might seem a tad dramatic, but it’s the principle of the matter. I bought enough to share with Mack to be the bigger person, and still, he decided to bulldoze over me and take what he wanted before I got the chance.
I hate being bulldozed.
My father, bless his wild heart, is a bit of a bulldozer, and I spent most of my youth putting all of his whims and passions above what I wanted to do because of it. Hell, I still find myself doing that as an adult.
How about you not psychoanalyze yourself on vacation? I chastise myself. Just move on from the donuts and the bulldozing and relax.
I force my eyes back to the book. I’ve read this entire trilogy twice already, but it’s hilarious and heartwarming and sexy and the exact mood I’m looking for on vacation. If I could focus on reading, I might actually get through the trilogy and be able to move on to Brooke Baker’s latest release, Accidental Attachment. I’m sure there’s a bookstore somewhere nearby where I could grab it.
But as I start reading where I left off yesterday, I find it nearly impossible to fall into a ghostly world. All I can think about is those dang donuts.
“Hey there, Katy Cat,” a familiar voice summons from over my shoulder, his timing at an impeccable climax in the waves of my upset.
“I’m still mad at you,” I mutter and move my eyes back to my book, even though I’m not reading a single word of it.
“And how long do you think you’re going to be mad at me?”
I shrug one shoulder. “Days. Weeks. Months. Years? It could truly go any way at this point.”
“Years? C’mon, Katy. Let me make it up to you. You name it, and I’ll do it.”
He circles my chair to stand in front of me, effectively blocking out the morning sun and casting me in shadow. I look up at him reluctantly, but his silhouette is dark against the brightness at his back.
Still, I can tell he’s in baby-blue board shorts, his bare chest on display, with his paddleboard tucked under one arm. His hair is floppy and partially over his eyes, and just one day in the sun has deepened the tone of his olive-hued skin.
It’s hard to make out his features with the sun at the angle it is, but realistically, that’s probably what’s making it possible for me to “look him in the eye” as I make the demand, “Find another place to stay this week.”
A soft laugh escapes his lungs even though I’m not joking.
“How about I pick up breakfast tomorrow morning?” he offers, like it’s a good alternative to me getting the rental to myself. “Anything you want and it’s yours to devour.”
“Meh. I like the ‘you moving out of the condo’ thing better.”
“I know a great little diner that has the best blueberry pancakes you’ll ever taste,” he continues, completely ignoring my comment on purpose.
“I don’t like blueberries.” At least, not ones laced with the disdain I’d feel sitting across the table from the Donut Stealer himself.
Another laugh escapes his throat as he searches my eyes. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re being difficult on purpose right now?”
My attention is already back on my book. “Probably because I am.”
But my gaze’s Mack reprieve only lasts so long. He squats down to meet me at eye level again, making it downright impossible to avoid him. “Katy, I’m really sorry for eating your donuts. Will you please forgive me?” He reaches out to gently pat my knee. “I promise I won’t do it again, and for the rest of the week, I’ll be a good boy and on my best behavior.”
I snort at that, even rolling my eyes when he says best behavior. His idea and my idea of good behavior are two very different things.
But his big, lopsided smile is so close right now that I can make out the facets of green and brown and gold within his eyes, and I can even see that he has the tiniest hint of a scar above his right eyebrow. This argument needs to end. Pronto.
“How about you just go do your paddleboarding thing and leave me be?”
“Not until you forgive me first.” His green eyes are persistent, practically begging me for mercy.
It all feels like…too much Mack for my equilibrium.
A huff jumps from my lungs, and before I know it, I’m saying the only thing I think will get him to not be so inside my personal space. “Fine. I forgive you.”
“Yeah? You forgive me?”
I nod. Anything not to have to stare so deeply into your stupid gorgeous eyes any longer.
“Fantastic,” he says through a growing smile. He pats my bare knee again with his big hand. “Now, I’m going to leave you be, and tonight, I’ll handle getting dinner.”