Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
He shrugs, staring at Millie and Oliver. “She’s a little too innocent for him if you know what I mean.” I narrow my eyes and he shakes his head. “I don’t mean it as an insult at all. She’s sweet and shy. She loves her books maybe a little more than she actually likes real people. She doesn’t mind spending time alone and Oliver Moore couldn’t be more different. He loves the nightlife and spontaneity. He reads as much as you do and I know he’s looking for someone who can put him in his place. Millie would never do that.”
“As much as I do?” I ask, pretending I’m not taking offense to his words.
He barrels out a laugh. “Yeah, which is never.”
I want to correct him. I want to tell him how fucking wrong he is. He doesn’t know Millie like I know her. And apparently he doesn’t know me either. But Millie is nothing like Brock thinks. She’s full of life and loves spontaneity. She does love reading, but she loves talking to people more than anything. She may seem sweet and shy, but that little bunny is a naughty girl with a mouth to prove it. She’s fucking perfect and any guy would be lucky to be with her.
I snap my head toward their table and stare at her while she listens to Oliver talk. Any guy would be lucky to be with her, she’s fucking gorgeous. She’s everything any man could ever hope for and there’s no chance in hell that I’m going to allow another man to have what I so desperately want.
Millie is mine.
She might not know it yet, but it’s about damn time she does. The hero of my book would never sit back and allow the woman he has feelings for to be pulled away from him.
So why the fuck would I?
Game’s over, little bunny. I’m fighting for what’s mine.
Chapter 17
Millie
Awkward. The definition of awkward is causing discomfort or embarrassment, a situation that's uneasy or hard to handle. And right now, sitting in this booth across from Oliver, with Tripp's harsh stare drilling a hole the size of Texas into the back of my head, this moment is the epitome of awkward.
I can feel the tension in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife, making me want to bolt right out of this restaurant and never look back. My palms are sweating, and my heart is pounding in my chest as if it's trying to find its own escape route. I can barely focus on what Oliver is saying, his voice drowned out by the roar of my thoughts and the suffocating weight of Tripp's gaze.
When Oliver suggested we go to Atta Boy Brewery for our date, I should have seen the red flags waving. I should have politely declined or at least put up a fight. But no, I had to remember Tripp's words, his casual suggestion that I go out with Oliver, like it was no big deal. And maybe, just maybe, a small part of me wanted to make him jealous, to see if he’d react, to test if he actually cares.
But right now, all I can think about is how desperately I want to abort this mission. My mind is racing with escape routes—should I fake an emergency? Pretend I’m feeling sick? Anything to flee and never look back. The walls of the restaurant feel like they’re closing in, trapping me in this unbearable situation.
Oliver, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside me, smiles warmly. "Are you okay?"
I nod, forcing a smile that feels like it could crack my face, trying to mirror the easy grin he's offering. "I’m great," I manage to say, though my voice wavers slightly. It’s a lie, of course, but one I hope he won’t notice.
I glance down at the menu in front of me, the words swimming on the page. My appetite is nonexistent, but I pretend to scan the options, trying to figure out what to order—if anything. The thought of food turns my stomach, but I can’t just sit here doing nothing, looking like I’m on the verge of a breakdown.
The server arrives to take our order, and I hastily decide on a salad, though my appetite is barely there. As the server walks away, I find myself fidgeting with my fingers, trying to distract myself from the unease gnawing at me. Oliver starts talking, his voice full of warmth as he shares stories about growing up with four brothers and a baby sister. His eyes light up as he recounts the chaos and camaraderie of his childhood, and I try to focus on his words, though my mind keeps drifting.
“Oh, and my sister is dating your ex-boyfriend,” he adds casually, flashing a grin that I manage to return.
I nod, smiling as if that little tidbit doesn’t sting more than I’d like to admit. What he doesn’t know—what I’m certainly not about to tell him—is that I’ve been fooling around with my ex-boyfriend’s younger brother. That’s a secret I’m keeping tightly under wraps; Oliver doesn’t need to know that messy little detail.