Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“You did,” he growls.
“Interesting,” I mutter, leaning back on the heels of my feet, looking him over. “I sat across from you for fifteen minutes, got up from a table I was sitting at with you, and you didn’t notice. I stood across the room from you for five minutes before I said ‘Screw it’, and left. I don’t know what type of women you’re used to, but I’m not one of them. Good luck in life, Wes,” I tell him, opening my door, stepping inside, and then closing and locking the door behind me.
I plop down on my couch for a minute and put my face in my hands. This was not how I expected my evening to turn out. After a few minutes, I stand and head for the kitchen, scooping up Juice on the way, letting his soft purrs sooth my wounded ego. Then I go to Taser and check on him before placing Juice on the counter, and pull down one of my large mixing bowls from one cupboard and a box of Fruity Pebbles out of another. I fill the bowl half-full and go to the fridge to get milk, and pour some on top of the cereal. I grab a spoon from my cute holder on my counter and take the bowl with me, heading towards my bedroom, when there is another knock on my door.
“What?” I ask, wrapping my arm around the bowl of cereal as I open the door.
“You’re not eating that. I ordered pizza,” Wes says as soon as he spots my Fruity Pebbles.
“Are you drunk?” I ask him as he pushes past me into my house, taking the bowl out of my hand.
“No, and don’t do that shit again, unless you want a red ass,” he says, and I ignore his comment and follow behind him. “Sean had some information I needed, so I didn’t even think; I just went into work mode.” He walks into my kitchen, sets my bowl of cereal in the sink, and turns the water on.
“You did not just do that,” I hiss, watching my favorite food in the whole world literally go down the drain.
“I ordered us pizza.”
“Did you hear the part where I said ‘have a nice life’?”
“I’m ignoring that, ’cause I know you’re pissed, but I also know you’ll get over it.”
“Get over it?” I breathe out, watching as he takes off his cut and places it over the back of one of my kitchen chairs.
“You’re right. You’re not like any woman I’ve been with before.” He runs a hand over his jaw, and I notice he didn’t say ‘dated’.
“No shit.” I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest, and his lips twitch.
“I also know that’s the reason I’m pursuing you. I can get pussy anytime I want. But a woman I see myself having a future with,” he shakes his head, “never had that.”
“Uh…I just met you, and I hate to be the one to bust your little bubble, but you’re not someone I see myself having a future with. I can’t even see us having a second date.”
“We’ll see,” he mutters, walking over to Taser’s cage.
“No, we won’t see. You need to leave.” I pick up his cut and head towards the door, hoping he’ll follow but when I open the door, the pizza delivery guy is standing there with his hand in air, ready to knock. Crap. I step back as Wes comes to stand in front of me, talking to the delivery guy.
“Babe, take this into the kitchen while I pay for it,” he tells me, handing me the pizza box and pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.
I stand there for a moment, looking at him like he’s insane, but then stupidly walk the pizza back to my kitchen, setting it down on my counter. Then I put his cut on the back of my chair again and stand there in the kitchen with my arms crossed over my chest as I wait for him.
“You gonna get plates?” he asks, walking around the corner.
“No.”
“Are you always this difficult?”
“I would like to remind you that I went out to dinner with you, but you ignored me,” I say haughtily.
“Told you it was business.”
“And I told you I don’t care.”
“I know you believe in second chances. Most people, especially a vet, would take one look at Capone and Max and put them to sleep, but you didn’t do that.”
That was a low blow. I look at him, and my gut is telling me to do it, to give him a second chance, but my brain is screaming at me, telling me that if I do it, then it will be the end of life as I know it.
“We can be friends,” I compromise, and he grins.
“Sure, baby. Friends,” he mutters then steps closer to me, and I cover my mouth again when I see his eyes drop to my lips. “Don’t worry. I won’t kiss you until you’re begging me to,” he says, and I scoff, take a step back, reach up with my free hand, and open the cupboard that holds my plates. I pull two down and shove them at him, and then remove my hand from my mouth when I open the fridge to grab two beers.