Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
I shift my weight on my feet, edging just a little bit away. But I’m ready to spring if shifty-eyed Edward does. It’s a game of chicken now. Sweat breaks out on my lower back.
Sarah doesn’t fill the silence but looks at me expectantly. Okay, then.
“So, how does his little hat stay on?” I push a smile. “Let me guess. Magic?”
Her upper lip curls. “Another comedian.” She shoots an accusatory glance at Pen, then thankfully moves away, heading for the back hall. “His hat stays on with a little elastic band, of course.” The orange of her ponytail swings with her stride. “Maybe try being less of a funny guy and concentrate more on playing football.”
At that, she stops and glares at me from over her shoulder. Edward does too. “True fans are counting on you, Luck.”
Unable to help myself, I give her a quick salute. Her eyes narrow, but she leaves without saying anything other than, “Turn off the record player when it’s done, Pen.”
As soon as she’s gone, I let out a breath and finally look at Pen. “She seems nice.”
“She has her moods but she’s okay.”
“I admit, I was not expecting the frog.”
Her laughter sounds so good and warm, my lingering tension vanishes. “No one does. I think she gets off on disarming people with him.”
She picks up her dishes, and I follow her into the kitchen. “I can’t believe it keeps the hat on.”
Pen grins wide, her brown eyes alight as she puts her plate and fork in the dishwasher. “I couldn’t either at first. But she’s got dozens of them.”
“Frogs?” The horror.
“Hats.” Pen laughs. “Cowboy hats, baseball caps, boaters, derbys, newsboy caps . . . you name it.”
“Dear God.”
“It’s cute.”
“If you say so.” I suppress a shudder.
“You don’t like the hats?”
“Frogs. They give me the willies. But don’t tell your roommate.”
“Oh, really?” The question is filled with glee. I would expect no less.
“Jan hid one in my football kit when I was thirteen. And I didn’t find it until I got dressed.” My skin crawls at the memory of that clammy frog wriggling over my torso in a desperate bid for freedom. “I don’t know who was more upset, me or the frog. But the fear remains.”
She makes a sound of sympathy. “I’d be scarred for life too. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
Stuffing my hands in my jeans pockets, I lean against the counter. “Why did Sarah say ‘another comedian’? Have other guys said the same?”
I’d like to think I’m subtle here, but I doubt it. Then again, Pen simply shakes her head, clearly not getting my query into the topic of any guys she may or may not have dated.
“No. She meant me.” Her eyes light up again with humor. “When I met Edward, I asked if it was magic that made his hat stay on.”
This pleases me more than it probably should. “It’s a perfectly logical conclusion. Anyone who can get a frog to dress in hats and stay put has to be practicing some sort of magic.”
“Exactly!”
We share a grin but then I shoot a wary glance toward the way Sarah exited. “He stays put, right?”
Pen pats my arm kindly. “Don’t worry, Pickle. If he hops out here to have a word, I’ll protect you.”
“Ah, Sweets, I knew I could count on you to save me.”
I thought it would make her smile some more, but her happy expression dims.
“Speaking of that,” she begins in a tone that sets off alarm bells in my head.
She’s going to turn me down. I know it. Before she can get another word out, I take her hand. “Let’s go for a walk and talk.”
When her brows draw together, I give her hand a gentle tug. “Come on. I need to be far away from Frogville. And I’m in the mood for a hike.”
“Huh.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing, really. I was planning to go on a hike today, is all.”
“Perfect. Let’s go.” I take her hand again. My fingers curl over hers and something deep inside of me seems to click into place. And for one thick moment, I just want to stay right here and hold on. The feel of her hand in mine centers me. I like it. A lot.
Oblivious to my turmoil, Pen makes a sound of amused exasperation. “Wait, wait. I’ve got to change first.”
For the first time since I got here, I notice her clothes. She’s wearing an oversize ivory T-shirt with Murder, She Wrote printed in gold across her chest and tiny frayed jean shorts. I swallow hard. Pen’s legs are slim and pale with ankles so delicately thin, I could easily wrap my thumb and forefinger around them. Lust tightens my core with unexpected speed and strength. It’s far too easy to imagine sliding my hands up those smooth legs and wrapping them around my waist.