Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
He’s my annoying ghost. I walk a few blocks to a high-end grocery chain. Everything’s organic, fancy, and stupidly overpriced. I grab a cart and try to hum to myself as I stride through the store, but Liam’s always there, one step behind me.
And I notice the heads turning immediately.
A younger woman near the lettuce does a double-take when Liam leans past her to grab a head of romaine for me. An older woman checking peaches nearly drops one, her mouth hanging open, when Liam stretches his back. Another woman grips a banana with both hands, squeezing it hard.
It’s not only the women. Half the men in the store gape at him like he’s some kind of apparition from another world. Liam’s either good at ignoring it or isn’t aware of the effect he has on the people around him, but either way, it’s irritating.
“Do you really have to follow me around?” I hiss at him as I head to the pasta aisle.
“Believe me love, I’d rather be doing almost anything else.”
“What have you been doing lately, anyway? You’ve barely been around.”
“Little of this, little of that.”
“Shady.”
“Yes, love, I know.” He picks up an apple and weighs it in his hand, rubbing it slowly. “Nice and firm.”
A woman nearby almost faints. She leans on her cart and has to hurry away.
“Would you stop that?”
“Sorry, love, are you more of a pear girl?” His eyes roam my body. “Yes, I’d say that’s the right shape.”
“You’re gross.”
He lifts an orange and slowly strokes it. “Gross? Are you sure?”
“Stop it!”
An old woman’s jaw is hanging open.
I swear to god, this man looks like a sexual god, and all he’s doing is casually stroking fruit.
Liam snickers and puts the orange back as I hurry away. He stays close, fingers brushing over packages as we go. My heart’s racing and my skin’s flushed, and I’m starting to feel like those shocked and horny housewives back in produce. What the hell is wrong with me?
And is he really doing this on purpose now?
“How do these look?” Liam lifts a package of fancy linguine, gripping it with both hands. “Bronze cut. Nice and big.” His brows lift. “You like this size, don’t you?”
“Stop. Now. Please.”
“Don’t pretend like you’re more of a spaghetti girl.” He bends closer, voice dropping. “You like it thick.”
“Liam!”
He drops the linguine in the cart. “Thick and long.” He strokes his hands up the package nice and slow. Which obviously makes me think about him stroking his package…
“Please let me shop in peace.”
“Whatever you want, love, and I really mean that. Anything you want.”
A stock girl refilling the shelves nearby chokes, her cheeks bright red, and has to scurry off. I catch her muttering to herself, oh my god that’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen… before she turns the corner.
I’m mortified. This is straight up hell. I do my best to hurry but now Liam knows what he’s doing and he’s having fun. Everything turns into sexual innuendo, to the point that I want to scream.
More than one woman looks like she’s going to have a heart attack.
Several men leer openly and I’m pretty sure one raises his phone and snaps a photo of Liam growling like a bear as he paws at a chicken breast.
By the time I’m bagged and paid, Liam’s cackling with delight. He shoots a wink at the cashier girl and she practically melts under his attention.
My cheeks are burning. I grab his arm tightly, fingers digging into his ropey muscle. “Enough, please, or did you forget that you’re married?”
“Regan, love, are you jealous?”
“Not even remotely. More like embarrassed.”
“My god, you’re jealous. You’re burning with it right now.”
“Go to hell. Seriously, what was that back there? Do you enjoy making me feel like an idiot?”
“I enjoy flirting with you, that’s for sure.”
I scoff and shove his shoulder. “That was flirting? You’re terrible.”
“I’m fantastic. Pretty sure that old lady near the peaches had an orgasm.”
“Don’t be gross.”
“Don’t be jealous.”
“I’m not!” I pause, seething, and catch my breath. I hold his gaze with deep, ugly loathing, but that anger’s mostly directed at myself.
Because despite how annoying he’s being, I’m desperately turned on.
To the point where if he touched me, I’m pretty sure I’d explode on the spot.
His gaze is knowing and infuriating. “You okay, baby?”
“Stop calling me that. Actually, stop calling me love too, okay?” I shove my way into the apartment building.
He catches up and takes some of the bags from me. “I like the nicknames.”
“I hate them. And you’re a prick, you know that?”
“Regan—“
“No, I’m serious. You disappear for a few days after our wedding and you only come back to make my first public shopping trip since the shooting feel like a walk of shame. I don’t know what I did to make you hate me, but get over it.”