Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“I’ll see you around then. Eventually, maybe. Until then, I’ll just pretend it’s not weird at all to be in your house, alone, without you.”
“Just think of it as a timeshare.”
“Aren’t those things scams?” I scoff.
“Some of them are great. You liked Amanda. Becca is super nice, like Amanda, and she’s a genius when it comes to marketing. You’ll like her. I’ll get her to meet with you personally.”
“On my bus.”
He said he has to leave, but he’s still rooted to the spot. “If that’s what you want.”
“After this week, that’s where I’ll be,” I say.
“Yes.”
“Yes,” I echo.
“Thank you for the surprisingly delicious sandwich. I’ll just…be off.” At least this time, he looks over his left shoulder.
“Okay.”
“Yes,” he says again.
Then, he does something I don’t think is possible for a man like him. He shifts from one foot to the other, tilts his jaw down, juts it out stubbornly again, and walks out. There are doors all over the place in here, and I haven’t explored what’s behind many of them because that would make me the creepy intruder. Kind of. I’m not even sure which one opens to the garage, but like any other normal house, this one has it. I’m sure that’s the way Thorn 2.0 leaves.
And still without explaining the facial hair.
I study the food I’ve spread out on the island. I’m in a five-star kitchen in a five-star house with five-star everything. Anyone would think they’d won some kind of lottery just by being here, but the path to this moment has been so strange that I’m still reeling.
I’m also reeling from how I know Thorn and I both started the day with different intentions and then, somehow, it changed. It wasn’t even some big event, but I know we just saw something in each other that we weren’t used to seeing. Sometimes, it takes something heroic or tender, and then you realize the person you thought was a huge jerkus is, in reality, okay.
So what even just happened?
All I did was make a freaking sandwich. Hardly heroic.
He came to kick me the shit out of his house, but I’m still here. How did that happen? Timeshare my ass. Will I ever see him again? He was vague, but in a way that sounded like he was making a joke out of not seeing him again. I didn’t even know he had a sense of humor. Maybe it was the cheese in the sandwich. Name one thing cheese can’t fix. How is this even my life right now? I’ve thought that before, and not in a good way.
Is this a good way? Do I want to see Thorn again?
My nipples stand out so hard against my dress that the answer for them is undoubtedly yes. Two hard peaks to the sky, yes. There are other parts of me echoing that positive sentiment.
If we’re not playing a vendetta game anymore, then what are we doing? Doubt. Challenge. He likes that. He thrives on it, lives for it, and rises to it the way I’ve risen to the challenges in my own life. I can’t just go to his workplace if I get bored in a house with endless things to do and…and…say what?
Throw down a challenge about my life? Say I don’t think he’ll make good on his word, and I want to see the project so far, even though I’m supposed to be unplugged? I can take Peach Lips for inspiration. How can anyone redesign and rebrand us if they don’t understand the meaning behind all of it in the first place? She’ll melt some hearts. I can be my usual honey and not the astringent vinegar that Thorn seems to bring out in me.
That would involve seeing him again unless he’s left the city.
Do I truly want that, more than nipples and hormones level deep?
Again, what am I even doing here, and how has this become my life, even just for a week?
Cameras. Thorn has them all over the house and yard, no doubt. He can see me anytime he wants, but I can’t see him. Maybe he’s not the only one who responds to a challenge because, suddenly, this feels like a game again. A game where the rules have changed and the stakes are different, but a game I can participate in without worrying that I’m doing it for all the wrong reasons.
Or all the right ones.
Chapter nine
Thorn
“No, Warren. You have nothing to worry about. There was a problem, but not everything goes according to plan. It’s what you do with the challenges that proves who you are.”
For the past hour, I’ve been on the phone with the CEO of the company that was supposed to be on the other end of the merger with us. Right now, it’s looking more and more doubtful that it’s going to happen. Warren Smith isn’t impressed with the whole Peach Lips getting catnapped incident, and he doesn’t like the Pissgate scandal. Not that he called it that. He’s only talking to me right now—office Thorn, aka Mr. Blackhert (and yes, it really is code for Black Hart)—because he doesn’t know that the one who caused said scandals was also me.