Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“Who wouldn’t get excited over getting a luxury car for Christmas?” Zoe asks from the dressing room on my other side. “I wish my parents would spend that much money on my Christmas gifts. They’re too busy buying things for themselves and each other.” Considering Zoe drives a BMW, she’s not exactly hurting.
“Seriously,” I add, turning around to zip up the dress I’m trying on. “You could do a lot worse than a Lexus.”
“Yeah, yeah, but he didn’t even pay attention to the model I wanted. And he added on a bunch of safety crap I’m not even interested in.” It’s funny. Posey is one of the smartest, most levelheaded people I’ve ever met. But when it comes to things like this, she’s exactly what I always used to imagine rich people acted like.
“At least your parents let you drive,” I mutter, opening the door to my room and heading over to the three-way mirror to check myself out from all angles. At least Dad warned me about the big, swanky Christmas party he’ll be holding in a couple of weeks.
I wonder if he’ll think red is a good color. It’s a festive red, deep, almost burgundy. Not like a stop sign or anything. It’s cut straight across my chest, exposing my shoulders, but with long sleeves and a full-length skirt. I can’t imagine he would raise any objections.
Zeke is in kind of an awkward position. I almost feel bad for him. He can’t come into the dressing room area for fear of being called a pervert and possibly getting kicked out of the store, but he has to stay close enough to watch over me. I see the tips of his heavy, black boots just outside the doorway dividing us from the rest of the store.
The girls are still putting their dresses on, bitching about the cars their parents bought them, so I scoot over to where he’ll be able to see me. “What do you think?” I whisper, doing a slow turn.
He looks to the left. He looks to the right. His eyes land on me again.
He grins in approval. “I can’t wait to tear that off you with my teeth,” he whispers. “And I can’t think of a reason he wouldn’t like it. You’ll make him look good.”
Right, because that’s my only use. Making him look good. I feel a bit deflated walking back to the three-way mirror, checking myself out again. Maybe I should add a festive bow to my hair so I really look like a gift Dad can put under his tree. Something pretty and shiny to catch the eye of guests walking from room to room.
I’m too busy sulking silently to notice when Posey opens her door. She’s in something cute and slinky and sexy, her New Year’s dress. Apparently, her grandfather throws a hell of a party with big, popular musicians and New York’s best chefs catering the event. It’s the sort of thing that gets written about in newspapers.
“Hot,” I confirm when she steps up next to me. “I wish I was as tall as you. You can carry off a look like that, but I can’t.”
“Please, like you don’t look like a million bucks in this. Give me a spin.” I do as she asks, and she whistles appreciatively.
Until she sees my shoulder blades, that is.
“Are these bruises?” she whispers, touching a finger to one of them. They’re more than a week old, and now I wish I had worn my hair down to hide them. I’m sure their ugly, greenish-yellow color is disturbing.
“Oh, yeah. I told you I’ve been taking self-defense lessons.”
She narrows her dark eyes. “What was the first lesson? How to get thrown on the ground without panicking?”
“Actually, that was lesson three.” I try to laugh it off, but she’s in no mood. “Yeah, that’s how I got these. I was learning how to fight off an attacker if I get knocked onto my back.”
“What are you talking about?” Zoe appears, wearing a silver dress that makes her look like a Christmas ornament. She’s got the curves for it. “I might dye my hair green for the holiday. Still trying to decide.”
“Damn. You remind me of one of those pinup girls from the fifties.” I fan myself, laughing. “Seriously hot.”
“Yeah, this is my favorite one so far.” She looks at Posey, obviously waiting for her opinion, but Posey is too busy staring at me. “What did I miss?”
“For one thing…” Posey points at my bruises, and Zoe gasps when she sees them.
“Stop it,” I whisper. The last thing I want is Zeke overhearing. “I told you, I’m taking lessons. It’s my dad’s idea,” I add. It’s not like they don’t already know how protective he is.
“And what does that include? Getting your ass kicked?”
If they think that’s bad, they should see the bruise I had on my ass thanks to losing my balance when I tried to knock Zeke off his. I hit the floor hard that time and had to sleep on my stomach for two nights.