Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
"Good luck," I whisper, lingering at the door when we make it up the stairs to my porch. I glance up at him to find him staring at me the same way he was back at his place.
He doesn't say anything. Instead, he steps forward, cupping my cheek again. He leans in to kiss my cheek like usual, his beard tickling my skin.
A whimper climbs up my throat before I can stop it.
He pulls back, his green eyes boring into mine. "See you soon, Dimples."
"Bye, Noah," I whisper, not sure what else to say.
He waits until I'm inside before he jogs back to his place. I watch through the window as he turns to look at my house before shaking his head and climbing into his SUV.
I watch until his taillights disappear down the street before I sink down onto the couch, my heart racing.
Noah Kirk almost kissed me.
I think I'm going to need new batteries tonight.
Chapter Seven
Noah
"Ihave something for you," Elsie says, grinning at me as soon as I open the front door to find her standing on my porch, dressed and ready for the day in a pencil skirt and an emerald-colored blouse that I'd really like to tear from her body.
Fucking hell.
Living across from her is like living in purgatory.
Every day, I find a new reason to fall for her. Two nights ago, I damn near said fuck it and kissed her, so that she'd finally know that I'm wild about her. And then my goddamn phone rang, ruining the moment.
I haven't seen her since. I haven't been home to see her.
It's been driving me out of my fucking mind.
Did she want me to kiss her? Did she want me to fuck off?
I don't know, and I'm afraid to ask. Sometimes, like the other night, she looks at me like she's dying for a taste. But then, other times, she tells me that I'm a great friend, and I have no fucking clue what she wants.
I'm ready to make a move, but I'm worried as fuck that if I do, I'll ruin this thing we've got going on, and the only time I'll be allowed to spend with her will be the time I spend watching her through her window.
Fuck the friendzone. I want forever.
So much so that it's turning me into a goddamn madman.
"Shouldn't you be on the way to work already?" I ask, cringing when the question comes out far more abrupt and gruff than intended.
She notices and blinks at me.
I should apologize. I fucking know I should. But she's standing in front of me, looking like a goddess, and I'm slowly losing my mind. I haven't slept since the day before yesterday. She's perfect. My dick hurts. And I'm just…irritable as hell.
I don't want to apologize. I want to drag her into my arms, yank her skirt up, and plow into her until she's screaming my name so loud the entire fucking neighborhood hears her.
"You can't keep showing up late when they're depending on you to be there. What kind of example are you setting for the kids if you're late all the time?"
She flinches, and I feel like the biggest asshole because that isn't what I wanted to say. It isn't even what I mean. She's an amazing role model, and I fucking know she is. She's not even late that often. And it's not her fault that she hasn't figured out how to navigate traffic yet. She's from the middle of nowhere, for fuck's sake. I'm sure the only traffic her town ever had was a funeral procession.
"Right," she says, reaching into her bag. "I just wanted to give you this while you were home since I wasn't sure when I'd see you again."
"We've been working the case."
When aren't we working a fucking case? Crime never sleeps in a city this size. Our call this time was another homicide—some nineteen-year-old kid shot and killed his eighteen-year-old girlfriend's father after he beat on her again.
I don't even fucking blame him for doing it. The man had been beating her for years. But now, the kid is probably going to prison for murder because he chose to drive to his house and shoot him instead of calling for help.
It's just fucking senseless.
Elsie doesn't say anything. She doesn't really look at me, either. Her feelings are clearly hurt.
I'm honestly expecting her to pull something ridiculous out of her bag, like another pack of rolling papers. Last week, she gave me some she'd confiscated from a student.
The last thing I expect her to pull out of her bag is a challenge coin.
"It's one your brother's team commissioned the year he was drafted to honor the police department," she says quietly. "I didn't see it in your collection and thought you might like it."
I take it from her, turning it over in my palm. My heart pounds against my ribcage as I stare at it, and I know without a doubt that I'll never be good enough for her. But goddamn, I want to be.