Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“Don’t worry,” Carter offers. He’s being strangely charming toward her right now, which, to say the least, is a huge change. “I will keep her in line while you’re gone.”
“I’ll have to count on you, I guess.” She’s practically glowing, giggling as she swats his arm in a playful gesture. She turns away, but I don’t, meaning I get to see the way his mouth twists in a smirk.
Paul waves up at us. “You two okay? Do you think you can handle it while we’re gone?”
“We’ll be fine,” Carter calls out while I shake like a leaf inside. “Get out of here or you’ll miss your flight.”
“He’s right!” Mom trills, almost skipping in her mile-high sandals. “We better go. They won’t hold the plane for us, even though we are newlyweds.”
Don’t go. Right, like she would listen. It’s not like I actually want her to stay. I’m psyching myself out, that’s all. If anything, Carter and I are getting along better than we used to. I have nothing to worry about.
Other than myself. Can I trust myself around him? I can’t believe I have to ask that question.
We both wave as the car pulls down the driveway. As soon as it’s turned onto the street, rolling out of view, Carter releases a long breath. “Fuck. I need a drink.”
And here we go. Day one.
I would remind him it’s only ten o’clock in the morning, but then I don’t think he really means it. The less I say to him, the better. Just because he’s not actively going out of his way to make my life miserable right now doesn’t mean we have to spend a ton of time together. It’s safer if we don’t—no chance of me getting all caught up in my hormones and possibly throwing myself at him. The way I came close to doing last night.
And all because he was nice to me. Because he listened, because he seemed to care, because he kissed me in a way that said more than a thousand words ever could.
But then I had a lot of champagne, and so did he, and I was probably telling myself what I needed to believe.
I’m halfway to the stairs when he clears his throat. “Where do you think you’re going?”
What a wonderful way to start off our two weeks together. After taking a slow breath, I turn his way. “Up to my room. I was thinking about getting a little more sleep.”
“What, you mean your graceful mom woke you up too?” He snorts, then tips his head toward the living room. “Hang out with me.”
“I’m pretty tired. I won’t be any fun.”
Snorting, he retorts, “I don’t expect fun. Just somebody to hang out with.”
“Oh, that’s definitely the way to sweet-talk a girl into spending time with you.”
“Come on.” He scrubs a hand over his head, then yawns. “Just hang out with me. I don’t feel like being alone.”
Just when I think he’s showing me his human side, his decent side, he has to go and prove me wrong. “Unless you want me to show those photos around. They’re still on my phone, you know.”
This prick. He seems awfully comfortable blackmailing people into spending time with him. If I didn’t think he would make me sorry for it, I might say that out loud.
How can he be so concerned and almost caring one minute, then blackmail me like this? It can’t be because he actually wants to spend time with me—no way would I believe that. So what is it? Why should I even bother trying to figure it out? It’s a waste of time. He’s an enigma.
“Do you like Marvel movies?” he asks, flopping down on the sofa with the remote in hand.
Does he really want to watch an actual movie? “I’ve never watched any.”
“Seriously?” He looks up at me like he’s waiting for a punchline, like he genuinely can’t believe it. “Okay, we have to start from the beginning so you can catch up.”
When did I ever say I wanted to catch up with anything? “You can watch whatever you want. I won’t really care.”
“No. We’re watching Iron Man. That one came out first. I think you’ll like it,” he decides, pulling the movie up.
“I’ve heard of it.” In fact, I think I’ve seen a little bit. Well, at least he’s not asking me to do anything humiliating or disgusting. “Mind if I get something to eat? Do you want anything?”
“Oh, yeah. Let’s do that first.” He actually seems like he’s in a pretty good mood as we go to the kitchen. I figured he’d be pissed at me for running away from him last night, but he hasn’t brought it up. I’m not going to mention it if he’s willing to let it go. Maybe he’s growing up a little. A girl can dream.