Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I glanced up, zipping my jeans. “Oh, no shit? Dang. Sorry, I got that wrong.”
“Are you really?” She narrowed her eyes.
I smirked. Some misunderstandings felt like fate.
“Well, you’ve ruined our status. Now what?” she asked, messing with her hair.
“What do you mean?” I untied her shoe and handed it to her.
She shoved her foot into it. “It’s no longer a one-afternoon stand. It’s a two-afternoons stand. And I’m not sure that’s a thing, but maybe we can make it a thing just while I’m here.”
I nodded slowly, twisting my lips to the side while doing some quick thinking. “If you can have wine with breakfast, we can have an afternoon delight.”
Laughter bubbled from her chest. “Isn’t that a song?”
“I believe so.”
She briefly glanced to the side before studying me as if I would say I was just kidding. But I wasn’t.
“You want me to be your regular afternoon delight?”
I chuckled, ducking my head to kiss her lips, then along her jaw to her ear. “No. I want to be your afternoon delight.”
She giggled, but I wasn’t sure if it was what I said or if her neck was ticklish.
“No mornings or evenings. Correct?”
“Correct,” I said without really thinking about it, but I smiled before trapping her ear between my teeth.
“No pining. No touching. No flirting.” She playfully shoved me. “No biting my ear outside of the sex window.”
“The sex window? Are you making rules, Alice?”
“Yes. Rules keep expectations in check. It’s sex. Fun. Unattached. You can’t fall in love with me. And I won’t fall in love with you. Just. Sex.”
I opened the garage door, set my bike upright, and checked to make sure the gears were okay. “No-strings-attached sex. You’re basically describing every man’s dream. Are you still going for a ride, or have you had enough between your legs for one day?”
She rolled her lips together to hide her grin, and we stared at each other for a few minutes. Who were we kidding? The chemistry was undeniable. Every look was flirtatious. I wasn’t going to fall in love with her, but I loved that she was staying in my rental.
“How does one get into synchronized swimming?” I asked, instead of suggesting we have sex again, which was exactly what I wanted to do.
Alice opened the back garage door and headed toward the deck. “Well, I don’t know how everyone gets into it, but my friend begged me to take lessons with her, so that’s how I got into it.”
“I bet you can hold your breath for a long time.”
“I bet you’re right.” She disappeared into the house.
A few minutes later, she returned with a bottle of water as I pulled a few weeds near the fence.
“Will you feel inadequate if I still go for that bike ride?”
I laughed, shaking my head while brushing the dirt from my hands. “I don’t know what to say. You’ve got me fumbling my words all over the damn place.” And she did. Women rarely intimidated me because there was a push and pull. Emotions and egos at stake. No one liked being rejected or dumped, but Alice was immune to all of that. She acted as if she had nothing to lose, and I tried to feel the same way, but it felt foreign to me.
“Don’t worry. You still have a five-star review coming your way,” she said, sauntering toward the garage, once again proving my point.
Chapter Fourteen
Murphy
Silence is underrated.
It’s also open to interpretation
“She’s pretty, don’t you think?” Blair asks, as we relax by the pool on this ninety-degree afternoon on July first.
“Who?”
“Alice.”
I keep my eyes closed. “I don’t know. Why?”
“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re not blind. It’s not a trap. I’m just making a statement. She’s pretty. Why would my mom hire someone so pretty to be my dad’s …”
“Homemaker?” I grin.
“Stop.” She smacks my arm, but not without laughing. “Before we ran errands, I walked past my dad’s study, and guess what they were doing?”
“Discussing what cut of steak he wants for dinner? Fireworks for the Fourth?”
“No. She was reading to him. I kid you not; he was reclined on his leather sofa, eyes closed, and she was in the chair next to him, reading a book like a bedtime story. How messed up is that?”
“What book?”
“Murphy, what does that matter? That’s not the point. He’s a grown man having a book read to him like a child.”
“Well, maybe your mom won’t read to him.”
“Murphy!”
I laugh. “Okay. Okay. Yeah, it’s weird. But what are you going to do about it?”
“Why can’t you just agree with me without making a case for him?”
“I do agree with you.”
“But I want you to agree with me and do something about it.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Say something to him. Maybe shame him a little. Like one man to another, tell him how messed up it is that he has a woman close to his daughter’s age reading him a book.”