Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Sounds about right.
Do you consider yourself a strong female lead?
In my own life? Of course.
That’s a cool way of putting it.
I settle into my pillows, shoulders relaxing. Is he giving me a compliment?
Maybe you’re attracted to me because I’m a badass bitch the same way Posey and Ryann are LOL
Maybe.
But maybe I’m attracted to a million other things, too.
My breath hitches, and I sit up in bed, resting against the mattress, staring at that sentence: maybe I’m attracted to a million other things, too. Correct punctuation and all…
Swallowing hard, I press on, daring him to respond honestly.
Oh yeah? Like what?
The three chat bubble dots appear, then disappear, several times in the next few seconds.
I wait, staring at the small screen of my phone, stomach in my throat.
What on earth is he about to say?
I love the sound of your laughter and the freckles on the bridge of your nose, and how you don’t tolerate my nonsense.
My mouth gapes open. Swear to God it does. I haven’t said a word about this mess to anyone—not Stella, not Gabby, certainly not my parents, who have no idea I’m talking to guys and trying to date.
The freckles on my nose?
I touch my nose gingerly, never once considering that a guy might find them attractive, let alone a guy like Drake Colter. Big, tough, and dripping with sweat.
He likes my freckles.
And the sound of my laughter.
I squirm, having no idea what to say back.
Since when do men notice freckles?
I have them on my arms and chest, too. Though I’m not a redhead, my cousins are.
We notice lots of things.
Why does he keep using loaded statements that make me want to get into detail? To make him get more specific?
Suddenly, I’m so thirsty.
I’m nauseating myself.
Such as…?
Well. Like I said, the freckles on your nose. And the dimple you have in your chin—and how your hair is dark but has some blond highlights, depending on how the sun hits it.
Wait.
Is he for real?
This is such specific information.
Why is he telling me all this?
Because. He thinks you think he is his brother, and he doesn’t care.
But…
He’s stringing these sentences together as if he’s actually physically attracted to me. And as if…he’s noticed all these things about me. Surely, he wouldn’t say this stuff if he didn’t care at least a little?
You’re reading too much into it, Daisy.
Drake Colter is a player.
You sure do seem to be focused on them freckles. Fun fact: they’re all over my arms and my chest, too—I’m sure you’ll get to see them later…
I’m flirting with the wrong brother, and once again, poking the bear to get a reaction.
Drake does not disappoint.
Freckles on all your best bits?
Indeed.
Do you have any?
Can’t say that I do. Just a birthmark here and there.
Ah.
Ah.
I stare at that Ah of his, not sure what to say next. Imagine Drake sprawled out on his bed, no shirt, just boxers, all tan and toned with his sexy, arrogant self.
Ugh. Now I want to touch myself.
So. What’d you think of my brother?
He gets straight to the point, doesn’t he? No sugarcoating anything.
Seems like a nice guy.
NICE guy? Ok
Okay?
I almost laugh out loud, picturing the pout on his face.
Oh—big guy’s annoyed that I’m not giving him any information. What does he want me to say, that he’s sexy as hell, and I can’t stop thinking about that dumb gap between his teeth or picturing him with no shirt on?
As if.
I’m fake dating his brother, for crying out loud!
Sort of.
Not really.
This is his fault, and he has the nerve to get salty.
What’s so wrong with me calling him a nice guy?
Nice? When other words would be more appropriate?
Words like…?
Sexy. Hot. Smoke show.
Are you serious? In what world would I say that to a man’s face whom I was dating. ABOUT HIS BROTHER.
I hit send before I can stop myself, the words spilling from my fingers onto the screen.
I was just asking!
OMG it would NOT be okay for me to say things like that!
But if it was, would you say things like that?
OMG
I laugh, head still against the headboard, a nervous giggle erupting from my stomach. It would serve him right if I began speaking to him—about himself—in a way that would be taboo if this were actually Drew.
I bite down on my bottom lip as I type.
Actually. Now that you mention it…
Yeah?
I can almost hear him leaning forward, fully invested in my appraisal of him.
On one hand, this affords me to say whatever is on my mind; on the other, texts messages live on forever.
I noticed his arms are really ripped—way more toned than yours are.
Shoot, I shouldn’t have said that. I feel terrible now!
No, it’s cool. You’re right, my arms are way more ripped—I mean.
Shit, typo.
I meant HIS are more ripped, LOL, sorry, got distracted by the noise outside the house, I think someone is having a party.