Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I’d called Andrew up and grabbed lunch with him, talking about anything and everything we usually did.
TNU football, TNU hockey. Frat stuff. The fucking weather. I loved talking about it all, because none of it had to do with Draven.
But then, on my way home, I felt like I was being watched.
Very watched.
Even as my truck lurched along on my own driveway, it didn’t feel like mine anymore. The afternoon sun was full and bright. Like there was nowhere to hide.
Well, I don’t have a fuckin’ thing to hide, anyway.
I stood taller. All of Bestens seemed to be permeated by Draven, but that didn’t mean I was going to shrink away. I tried to shake the feeling that my town was starting to feel like his town, and my pride took center stage.
And I swore when I walked across my front porch I caught a whiff of his scent.
It can’t be his scent.
Of course it wasn’t. It was just imprinted on my mind, associated with the porch so much now that I couldn’t help but think of it.
It was time to film a video for the Cocktail Bro channel.
I put everything else out of my mind and set up my phone on its little bendy tripod in my kitchen, propping it up on one side of the sink as usual. I gathered my ingredients, focusing on what I knew how to do best.
“This right here is what I like to call the Bestens Beach Day,” I said into the camera. “Do we have beaches in Bestens? No. But we have coconut rum, mango syrup, and a hint of my secret ingredient: pulverized sweetened ginger. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it. Step one is to make your fresh mango syrup.”
I went through the first steps of the recipe.
I was shirtless again, because those videos had been performing about thirty times better than any video I’d posted before. I’d tossed on a pair of aqua blue shorts to go with the beachy theme, popped on a crisp white backwards hat, and had my Hard Spot Saloon armband around one bicep.
But as I was filming, I kept fucking shit up.
First I burnt the sugar for the mango syrup.
Then I added too much salt to the ginger, which only needed a tiny pinch.
And then, when I caught a glimpse of a tiny sheet of paper folded up on my kitchen windowsill.
I focused in on what was written on one side of it:
Baby Blue.
As I reached for it, I knocked over the shot glass full of coconut rum that I’d just poured. It spilled out onto my kitchen floor. I sucked in a lungful of air, turning to my phone and shutting off the recording video.
I snatched up the little piece of paper and unfolded it, reading the inside.
This kitchen window still isn’t secure.
If you don’t fix this, I will.
Or one of your stalkers will have free entry into your home.
Your choice.
-DL
PS: You are so fucking beautiful when you come. It’s all I can picture, each time I get off. I see your face. I want to feel your breath against my skin.
Remember when you told me a tongue was just a tongue, no matter whose it is?
You’re wrong.
Mine is better.
My knees felt weak as I dropped the note to the kitchen counter, my body going hot.
So he had been here.
In my home—or around it, slipping notes in through my fucking kitchen window.
My cock was rapidly hardening, and my hands shook a little as I slid the note back over, rereading it again.
I was pissed at the idea of Draven finding my posts online and watching me, but the idea of him around here, without my knowledge, made me want to break his skull. Or have him break me. Whatever fucking way he wants—
Goddamnit, I was losing it.
I was still pissed off at the thought of Draven traipsing around over there at Mr. Marsden’s old house, though, too.
He could just throw down a fat wad of cash and suddenly have whatever house he wanted?
Unfortunately, that’s exactly how it works.
I had wanted that house.
I couldn’t fucking stand it.
I grabbed my phone and tapped out a message to him.
Max
Did you break into my fucking house?
Draven
I told you. It’s not breaking in if I have a key. Or, this time, if your kitchen window is wide open.
I don’t trust you.
I didn’t come inside, Max, I just slipped the letter in. For your own good. If you’d like me to come inside sometime, just say the words.
I know you didn’t come to Bestens just because of Lily. And I’m still going to find out what you’re hiding from us.
Why did he always have to act like he was the one in control?
I tossed on a shirt and was in the driver’s seat of my pickup before I could second-guess myself. I wasn’t going to back down to a guy who thought he could come into town and intimidate me, when for my whole life I had made it my top priority to be friendly to every person in Bestens.