Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Cool. Our neighbors are going to love this,” Eve called over her shoulder, jogging into the kitchen to find one of her old copies of Entrepreneur magazine, left over from a time when she could afford the subscription. She stood on one of the dining room chairs and fanned the smoke detector with one hand, whipping her phone out of her back pocket with the other to determine the time. They were running late. Of course they were.
“Please stop beeping,” Eve muttered, fanning harder. “There’s already more than enough screeching in this apartment.”
And now her neighbor was banging on the wall.
That was new.
Eve’s vocal cords must have gotten to him.
“Who’s knocking?” shouted Landon over the noise, streaking past Eve in jeans and a chef’s hat, skidding to a halt in front of the door.
“No one. It’s just our neighbor . . . saying hello. Hi, Mrs. Rudolph!”
Landon wasn’t listening. While Eve continued to fan the bleating device furiously, Landon unlocked the door and yanked it open.
Madden Donahue stared back at Eve from the hallway.
She dropped the magazine, her knees dipping out of pure shock to find Madden filling up her doorway with his serious eyes and wide shoulders, the impact of both upsetting her balance. Oh man, he looked pensive and restless, distracting her further.
Story of my life.
Since the afternoon they’d met during her freshman year of high school, Madden Donahue had taken up rambling acres of space in Eve’s mind. She’d seen him first and she’d simply . . . never stopped seeing him. Not even in her dreams. Rules didn’t apply there. In her dreams, she didn’t have to avoid Madden out of loyalty to her best friend, Skylar, who’d always carried a torch for Madden. Didn’t have to make vague excuses or run for cover, the way she’d been doing since Madden had started showing romantic interest in Eve, the year she turned eighteen.
In dreams, she didn’t have to think about the difference in their social status.
She could let her wealth of feelings for Madden overflow.
Perhaps those feelings had piled up enough to upset her balance, because her chair wobbled and she began to topple. It was suddenly happening, and she really didn’t have time for a broken leg. Please, no. Not when her sister had just left town with no timeline to return, leaving Eve with her two children and her burlesque club sinking further and further into debt.
Please, not one more thing—
Madden caught Eve’s waist between two strong hands, steadying her.
“Easy, love.” Even with Eve standing on a chair, at six foot three, Madden barely had to lift his chin to make eye contact with her. “Don’t scare me like that.”
Eve had two reactions to Madden’s touch. His sudden presence.
There was Fantasy Eve who allowed herself to continue toppling straight into his baseball-catcher arms and be spun around the kitchen while she laughed, youthful and carefree. Once their amusement cooled, she would perch her inner thighs on his hips and work herself close enough to make him groan, before thanking him for being her hero.
Asking him coyly what she could do to repay him.
Reality Eve ignored the tingles shooting upward from Madden’s palms and fingertips to her nipples. She ignored the surging pound in her chest. The sexual awareness. The pure rush of pleasure over simply seeing him. Being graced with a reminder that Madden Donahue existed in this world.
All she could do was bite her lip and avoid eye contact while he lifted her down off the chair, reached up, and pressed a button to make the smoke detector quit its blaring. With the situation under control, Madden stared down at the two children craning their necks to look up at him, giving them a curt nod, as if they were tiny little adults.
“You’re the man who had a fight with Eve,” accused Landon, adjusting his chef’s hat. “Huh?”
Yes. Yes, he was.
Two weeks prior, Eve had taken the stage at the Gilded Garden for the very first time. A last resort. Maybe if she performed and fulfilled the prophecy of everyone she’d grown up with, she’d get enough locals talking to spur some business. Alas, she never removed so much as a silk glove, because Madden had stormed the stage and carried her off over his big, baseball catcher shoulder. While they argued backstage over her choice to become the night’s entertainment, he’d discovered the five-year-old twins passing the time with coloring books in her office. The cat was out of the bag. Eve was raising her sister’s kids for the foreseeable.
However, Madden’s stoic expression didn’t budge at the question. “You must be thinking of somebody else. I’d never fight with our Eve.”
“Yup, it was you,” Lark confirmed.
“You have to get out of bed a lot earlier in the morning to gaslight these kids,” Eve said, attempting a smirk, despite her racing heart.