Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“It’s the best.” I can see that it’s on the tip of his tongue to blow me off, and once upon a time, I would’ve let him. No more, I remind myself. So instead I butt my shoulder into his chest as I walk up the steps and in the door, strutting across the narrow living room and making myself at home the way he did last night. I at least have been staying here, unlike Sean.
“C’mon in,” he mutters under his breath, following me into the kitchen.
When I open the boxes, though, he groans in delight. “Shiiit, that smells fucking awesome!”
Food is the way to his heart, apparently, because he’s no longer scowling at me with his arms crossed over his chest. He reaches over to snatch a slice of extra-crispy bacon from one of the boxes, being quick and sneaky about it like I might smack his hand. The new version of Hope might’ve, too, except it reminds me of Ben saying that they went hungry sometimes.
Still, I have limits, and I might as well set them early.
“That one’s yours because I’m not getting shorted on Rosemary’s bacon. It has cracked pepper and honey glaze on it. I want both my slices.”
One side of his mouth lifts in a semi-grin as he open-mouth chews the half slice he ate in one monstrous bite. “Fair. I’ll take Ben’s instead.”
I narrow my eyes, glaring hard and trying to channel my Inner Joy. She’d be able to stand up to Sean, no problem. She spends most of her days in locker rooms with smelly boys, pre- and post-games, so dealing with assholes is basically half of her job description. Unfortunately, my experience is more pleasedon’tbiteme, pleasedon’tbiteme and acting like I believe people when they tell me they floss religiously when their gums tell a very different, tartar-filled tale.
“No you won’t.” I try to sound firm, but it’s a suggestion at best, so I put Ben’s food in the microwave. Out of sight, out of mind, hopefully. I carry my food to the living room, curling up in the corner of the couch that’s become “mine.”
“Guess we’re doing this, huh?” Sean asks, looking mildly amused by my attempt at gumption—which is pretty good, if I do say so myself.
“I’m not doing anything other than eating breakfast while I wait on Ben.”
Yep, almost believable, Hope. Woo-hoo! Good job!
The truth is, I’m infinitely curious about Sean, the man Ben describes as a brother but who is so rough around the edges, he’s basically jagged, broken glass that’ll cut you at any opportunity just to watch you bleed out.
I know I’m in over my head with him, so I take a bite of my cinnamon-sugar-dusted french toast and pointedly ignore Sean’s existence. He chuckles to himself, watching my delicate chewing, and then takes another huge half-slice-size bite of bacon as he falls lazily into the chair across from me. Even sitting here, I feel at a disadvantage.
“What do you want to know?” Sean says, licking the honey glaze from his thick, tattooed fingers. I arch a brow and he sighs as if I’ve already overstayed my welcome and am annoying him. “Look, Ben left about five minutes before you got here. I don’t know where this Rosemary’s joint is, but I figure you’ve got about thirty minutes to get all the insight you could ever want. Maybe you find out something interesting, maybe you find out something that has you running for the hills.” He acts like he’s not sure which way I’d go with what he knows. “Or you could sit there and listen to me smack while I scarf this down.”
I stay silent, mulling over his offer as I swallow another bite, and he does indeed smack down a bite of his own. Gross eating noises aside—his, not mine—I can’t help but play along with his game to find out more about Ben.
“Did the two of you fix whatever’s wrong between you? The thing that sent him here?” I ask.
Sean’s fork freezes halfway to his mouth, and he pins me with a curious scowl. “Everything you could ask—what’s his body count, how psychotic was his last ex, what’s his kryptonite in a woman, how you can lock him down, or any number of things like that—and you ask if me and him are cool?”
I copy one of his moves and shrug, trying to make it seem like no big deal. The truth is, I didn’t think of all those questions, but now that he’s mentioned them, I really want to know the answer to them. But I asked the highest-priority question first because I know how important Sean is to Ben. “Fighting with you is tearing him up. I don’t like that.”
He snorts a laugh. “You don’t like it? How do you think we feel?”