Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Bundled up as much as possible, I follow him outside. To my surprise, there has to be at least four more inches of snow on the ground. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much snow in my entire life.”
“Isn’t even the start of it.”
I stare at the endless mounds of white. “I’m never getting out of here,” I whine.
“Let’s not sign both our death warrants just yet.” I narrow my eyes at him. What’s so bad for him if I’m here? I’m the one that’s suffering. “Joke, babe.”
“This is your last warning.”
“Whatever, just go watch your step—”
“And I prefer that you not tell me what to do. I know how to—”
“Glad you do, but—”
“Seriously, back off!” I step forward, and my foot presses into the snow. It happens so fast that I barely register when my foot continues to sink, never hitting the step. I squeal as my entire body submerges into a pile of snow. “What the fuck?”
“Jesus Christ,” Easton muffles. “Lift your arms.”
“I can’t! They’re stuck in the snow.”
“I told you to fucking listen to me.”
“And I’m not a fucking dog!”
“Agreed. Dogs are way more obedient—”
“I swear to God when I get out of here. . .”
“And if you don’t?” I hear the humor in his tone. I try and fight the snow, but it’s compacted around me.
“Stop messing around. Get me out of here.”
“Are you going to behave?”
“Easton!”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” His hands dig in the snow under my arms and pull me out of the snow. “Like I was trying to say, step to your right. The stairs on the left haven’t been built yet. Now, if you’re done being stubborn, let’s go.”
“Asshole,” I mumble under my breath.
He doesn’t wait for me and treks down the ‘right side’ of the stairs to his snowmobile.
“All right, you ever ridden on one of these?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s the same as when you’re on my bike.”
I hate that my mind goes back to that time. Memories of my arms wrapped around him, cheek pressed to his back. How powerful I felt with him on his bike. “I don’t really remember that.”
He shakes his head. “Whatever. Jump on.”
“How am I supposed to hold on to you with all these layers on?”
“Just climb up. Since you’re smaller, you have to sit in front.”
“Like straddle you?”
“Has it been that long for you, Cal?” His low chuckle is going to get him punched. “Sit in front, facing forward.” He reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me up. My leg stretches over, and I plop my butt on the seat. Then he tugs me flush against him. His breath warms my ear as he says, “Technically, I’m the one straddling you.”
I hate that he can feel the shiver that runs through my body, and damn well knows it’s not because of the cold. “Can we please get this over with?”
“As you wish, princess.” Before I can spit out something rude and insulting, he starts the snowmobile. I squeal, gripping the handles as he takes off down the driveway. I didn’t notice it walking here because of the dark, but the driveway is surrounded by ginormous snow-covered pine trees. I gape at the scenery, feeling as if I’m in a painting.
Easton slows when we hit the bend. “Do you remember where your car is?”
“It’s to the right, I think. Then left off the main road.” He nods and accelerates. “There.” I point when I see a larger pile of snow, assuming my little Beetle is under it.
He pulls off to the side and helps me climb off. He lifts the seat, retrieves a small shovel, and starts clearing off a side of my car. When my driver-side door appears, he drops the shovel. “Try getting in. Your locks may be frozen.”
Sure enough, they are. I manage to get my key in but snap it in the lock. “Goddammit!” I kick my car. A pile of snow falls from the roof, smacking me in the face. “Just great. Just fucking great!”
“Relax. I’ll come back later and try to melt the ice with a handheld heater.”
“I don’t want to melt it later. I want to melt it now. I want to get my shit and go home now.” I’m losing it. Having a serious meltdown in front of my ex-boyfriend, who already thinks I’m crazy. Which I know because he flat-out told me.
“You’re—”
“Just don’t. I know. I’m crazy.”
“You and cutting me off. Jesus. I was going to say you’re in good hands. If this happened and you weren’t close, you’d be frozen to death in your car. Which, by the way, why the fuck do you still have?”
“What’s wrong with my car?”
“Same thing that was wrong with it two years ago. It’s a piece of shit death trap.”
“It is not.”
“Babe, from the direction your car is pointing, I’m gonna assume you took a ride on some ice. Which wouldn’t happen if you were driving a safer car.”