Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 31149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
She exhales, and I can tell she’s not fully on board with this. “I feel bad you’re doing this.”
“Don’t. I want to.”
“Good, because I really don’t want to stop talking to you,” she answers quickly, as if she knew I was going to say what I did.
Her honesty hits me in the gut. “Really?”
Maggie’s lips curve just as she curves her finger around Kip’s fur. “Yeah. I’m having fun getting to know you.”
I run my hands down my thighs and then sit back, feeling like I have spiders crawling all over me. “I’m not that interesting.”
When her gaze meets mine, heat burns down my spine. “I beg to differ.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” she says softly. “I want to know everything about you.”
I just blink. She does?
“Why?”
She eyes me and then leans over Kip so that she’s near me but not crowding my space. “Can I be honest?”
I chuckle lightly. “I thought you were being honest.”
“Sure, but when someone asks that, it’s because they’re about to be super-super honest.”
I can’t help but grin back, my heart kicking up in time. “Yeah, please. Go ahead.”
“Okay,” she says, clasping her hands. “Were you or were you not flirting with me today?”
I choke on a scoff, and I quickly look down before I chuckle. “Wow, went for the jugular, huh?”
“What! I have to know.”
I roll my lips, then thread my fingers, knowing I look like one of those unconfident nerds who can’t talk to girls, rather than the alpha males she writes, the ones who tell the female main characters how badly they want them.
Men she probably likes.
I inhale deeply as my mind reels.
Put yourself out there.
Fucking Tessa.
I look up, meeting Maggie’s direct gaze. Her cheeks are rosy, and her lips are curved expectantly. Even with the stitches that, I have to say, are perfectly done, she’s a striking woman.
And I want to be honest with her.
“I was being a professional,” I say, and I expect her to be offended by my words.
But that’s not Maggie.
Leaning in with a sneaky smirk, she asks, “Professionally flirting with me?”
I chuckle. “Yes. Yes, I was.”
Her eyes dance with mine. “Then you’re attracted to me.”
I choke once more, shaking my head at her directness. She reminds me a lot of Tessa in that regard. That girl doesn’t think a single thought through; she just talks and hopes for the best. “You are a very beautiful woman, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” I admit, and when I meet her gaze, hers is still wholly on me. “But I doubt you asked that because you needed the compliment. You know you’re gorgeous, Maggie.”
“I do, but I wanted to know if you thought so.”
I hold her gaze. “Why is that?”
“Because I find you very attractive, and I want to get to know you.”
I bite my lip, not daring to look away, even with my face burning. I cup the back of my neck and exhale. “I want to know you too.”
seven
. . .
Text Thread.
Monday, 8:00 a.m.
Dermot: How are you feeling today?
Maggie: Better when I noticed the bouquet of flowers by the register. The card just read “D.” Is that for Doctor or Dermot?
Dermot: It’s for Dermot. Me. I got them for you.
Maggie: Phew, I thought it was for Dog, as in Kip.
Dermot: They’re from him too, but mostly me. Since I have opposable thumbs and can type in my bank information.
Maggie: I bet Kip was jealous.
Dermot: He was, truly. It’s hard not having thumbs.
Maggie: I can’t imagine. I love my thumbs.
Dermot: They’re needed for lots of things. A thumbs-up.
Maggie: Hitchhiking.
Dermot: For thumbprints.
Maggie: For wrapping gum around.
Dermot: ? Really? I wrap mine around my forefinger.
Maggie: Jeez, Dermot, you’re doing it all wrong.
Dermot: Damn, you’ll need to show me.
Maggie: Done.
Maggie: Dermot?
Dermot: Yes?
Maggie: Thank you for the flowers. They made my day.
Dermot: That was my goal.
Maggie: <3
Monday, 3:30 p.m.
Maggie: How was your morning?
Dermot: Kid puked on me, an older gentleman bent over and showed me his butthole without even a damn warning, and Tenille yelled at me for being on my phone.
Maggie: Oh no. Were you texting someone?
Dermot: Yeah, but she’s worth getting yelled at for.
Maggie: He-he.
Maggie: Sorry you had to see an old man’s butthole.
Dermot: It’s okay. When I left the room, I had a text from this really hot chick eating a mozzarella stick.
Maggie: Dermot! You have to go to the bar and get these sticks! They’re so good!
Dermot: Yeah, I need to.
Tuesday, 8:23 a.m.
Dermot: Have a great morning.
Maggie: You too! No buttholes today!
Dermot: As much as I hope you’re right, I’m not naïve.
Maggie: Fingers crossed for you.
Dermot: You’re doing God’s work.
Tuesday, 12:13 p.m.
Dermot: What are you eating for lunch?
Maggie: Ham and cheese my mommy made me.
Dermot: Spoiled. I’m eating a protein bar because Tenille is working me like a dog.
Maggie: She’s a tough cookie. Want me to bring you a sandwich?
Dermot: It’s okay. I have an appointment in ten.