Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 115683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve interacted with this woman twice—twice!—and you’re already thinking about her like this?
Constantly? Inappropriately?
I just can’t figure her out. Is she for real? Or is she full of shit?
What if I gave her the benefit of the doubt? I could just try it. If I get burned, it ain’t gonna hurt all that much. Right?
As she straightens, her eyes land on my face. One side of her mouth kicks up, like she knows I’ve been checking her out while also having a small crisis of conscience.
“I don’t need help.” She hikes a tote bag over her shoulder. “It’s just these two suitcases, and I can wheel—”
“Nope.” I can’t look at her as I grab the suitcases. The room smells like that perfume. It’s also immaculate. She stripped the bed and neatly folded the dirty sheets, which lie in a stack on top of the comforter. Shutters are closed. Not so much as a speck of dust or forgotten sock in sight.
Always so fucking perfect. And respectful. And lovely smelling.
My hatred for her burns a hole right through me.
It’s not hatred, dipshit. It’s hunger.
“Is that the only word you know tonight?” She pins me with a glare.
“Nope.”
“You’re not as funny as you think you are.”
“I don’t think I’m funny at all. Let’s go.”
Her bags are heavy. Not a light packer, then. Which, great. High-maintenance girls are not my type.
I kiss Mom good night and tip my chin to Dad, thanking them for having us.
“Lainey, you let us know if you need anything, all right?” Mom waves to us from the front porch. “I drove over to the apartment earlier to make sure everything was in order. But obviously I’m here if I missed something.”
“Thank y’all for the amazing hospitality, Paige. Dinner was delicious.”
I see Dean’s little head moving in the back seat of my truck. Hopefully he’s buckling himself in. It’s a new skill he just mastered. My back will be forever grateful.
Lainey opens the trunk of the cute little Jetta parked beside Mom’s Expedition. The Jetta is the same fire engine red as Lainey’s lipstick.
In true Lainey fashion, the trunk is neat as a pin. Totally empty, the upholstery marked with lines from a recent vacuum. I can only imagine what she thought of the mess inside my truck.
I lift the heavier of the two suitcases into the trunk without a word.
“You talk to your dad yet?” she asks.
The question startles me. Putting a hand on the Jetta’s raised tailgate, I turn my head. “That’s no one’s business but mine.”
“You made it my business too when you took your butt-hurt feelings out on me. Y’all should talk. You need to ask him why he didn’t consult you about hiring me. Maybe then you’d hate me a little less.”
She’s right, of course. Which only makes my hate burn hotter.
“Aw, Dallas, I thought you were enjoying this little game we got goin’ on.”
She arches a brow. “If you think this is fun, you really need to get out—”
Buzz.
The sound fills the space between us. Speaking of that space, when did she get in my face like this? She’s close enough that I can make out the faint scar that bisects one of her eyebrows.
The buzzing continues. Louder now.
“What the hell is that?” I ask.
Lainey’s eyes flash with panic before they move to her suitcase. “Um. Nothing. It’s nothing. Here, I got that one—”
But I grab the suitcase before she can get to it. “Is that some kind of electronic…something?”
She turns a deep, deep shade of pink. When I meet her eyes, the naked embarrassment—shock—in them is clear as day.
Buzzzzzzzz.
Oh.
Oh.
I force a grin, even as a bolt of lust lands between my legs. “Talk about needing to get out more. Is that your vibrator, Dallas?”
CHAPTER 10
Sex Toys Are for Sinners
LAINEY
I want to cry.
I want to scream.
Scratch all that. I want to run away and hide under a rock for the remainder of my earthly days.
Colton, that motherfucker, is grinning at me like the Cheshire cat as my vibrator continues to, well, do its freaking job.
I debated whether I should bring it with me to Hartsville. I can get myself off just fine the old-fashioned way, but my dry spell has really started to take its toll, and my vibrator is the only thing that hits the proverbial and literal spot these days.
So into my suitcase it went. The orgasms are better, and they happen quicker too. Dale told me my apartment would be above a barn, so I figured quicker orgasms equals fewer chances of someone hearing or walking in on me.
I wish I could wring past me’s neck. How stupid could you be? Why take dumb chances when sex toys are involved? You know better.
The buzzing sound is enormous in the silence that stretches between Colton and me. Thank God Dean is already in Colton’s truck. I grab for the suitcase, but he snatches it out of my reach.