Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
"Good to know." His gaze drifts down my body before he meets my gaze again. "What about you, Rebel?"
"What about me?"
"You going to hold it against me?"
There are several things I'd like to hold against him right now. His rabid aunt is not on the list.
"We'll see," I say instead, hating the way my cheeks burn. He can probably tell I'm cherry-red. I swear, it's a moral failing. God did not build me with the ability to hide anything—not my thoughts, not embarrassment, not even my dirty secrets. They all just show on my face like it's a dang scarlet letter.
We stand in silence for a moment, just staring at one another. I'm not ashamed to admit I like the way he keeps looking at me like I'm the most interesting thing in the vicinity. And let's be honest: Mr. Jacobs across the street has a dragon sculpture with a massive schlong and a marble statue with boobs, so there is actual competition here.
"So…" Mason finally says, drawing it out with a smirk on his face.
"Can I—?" I start at the same time, prepared to offer to help him move boxes.
Neither of us gets to finish what we were saying before I hear a warning growl behind me.
"Oscar, don't you—"
Too late.
My little demon of a dog darts through the open door and leaps down the steps, hurtling toward Mason at the speed of light.
Mason clocks him, his eyes going wide.
"Halt!" I shout.
Oscar skids to a stop at Mason's feet, snarling like he's a damn dragon instead of a four-pound Yorkie in a sweater vest and his villain era.
"Uh, hey," Mason says, looking at Oscar like he isn't sure if he should stand his ground or flee.
Oscar barks in response.
"Oscar, I swear if you don't stop trying to eat every man you come across," I growl, marching across the yard to snatch him up. He tries to wiggle free before he remembers that I have boobs and snacks. He settles with a final warning bark at Mason, licking my face like he's proud of himself.
"Oh, don't give me that," I mutter, holding him up in front of my face. "You're rude and mannerless, and one day, you're going to get eaten."
"Ah, I try to avoid snacking on dogs. Bad for digestion," Mason says dryly.
"Lucky for him." I roll my eyes, stroking the little monster between the eyes. "He probably deserves to be eaten at this point. He hates people."
"Doesn't seem to hate you," Mason observes, a soft smile on his face as he watches Oscar try to wriggle his way in between my boobs.
"That's because I rescued him. Someone tossed him in a dumpster downtown. I found him and brought him home with me," I explain. "He likes me and…well, basically just me." He tolerates my brother and my best friend, but only because they bribe him with snacks.
"What the fuck?" Mason's brows pull down. "He was in a fucking dumpster?"
"Yeah," I whisper, cuddling him close. "I don't know how long he was in there, but he was scared out of his mind. No one else could get close to him for days, but he came right to me. He's my little grouch."
"He's cute."
He is not cute. He looks like Shredder from the Ninja Turtles, only with a sweater vest and a bow-tie. But he's my little mutant spawn, and I love him. "Don't let him hear you say that. He will use it against you."
"They usually do," Mason chuckles, shaking his head.
"Well…I guess I should get him back inside before I have to bake apology cookies for whoever he tries to bite next," I say.
"And I should get these boxes in." Mason's gaze drifts across me again. "It was nice to meet you, Olive."
"You, too. Um, if you need anything, I'm just right next door. Stealing mail."
"I'll remember that, Rebel."
The way he looks at me says he means it.
I turn, scurrying back toward the safety of the house before I do something drastic and a touch unhinged—like offer to lick the sweat from his abs.
"You told your new neighbor that you were stealing mail?" Sarah Tolliver, my best friend, asks, sweeping her long hair up into a bun as we restock shelves at the Book of Love, the spicy romance bookstore where she works.
I spend most of my free time here with her. Lilah Davis, the owner, pays me with free books. As far as I'm concerned, that's like winning the lottery.
"It seemed funny at the time," I mutter.
"There is seriously something wrong with you."
"Yes. His abs. He had eight of them, Sarah. Eight!"
She laughs softly, flashing me a knowing smile. "You like him."
"Maybe," I mumble, not denying it. "I don't know him well enough to know if I like him or not, but talking to him yesterday didn't suck."
"So…go borrow sugar or something. Stalk him through the peephole and accidentally bump into him while you're both going to your cars." She shrugs. "There are nine hundred excuses for you to run into him again now that he lives right next door."