Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Chapter Five
CASSIA
I think I'm in over my head. Actually, I was in over my head well before I ever stepped foot onto Cord's ranch. But my toxic trait is thinking I can handle things I most definitely cannot handle, so I convinced myself if I just kept going with my insane plan, everything would work out fine.
"This is not fine," I whisper-hiss to myself in the bathroom mirror, yanking Cord's comb through my wet hair. I'm dressed in his clothes, in his bathroom, using his comb. And he's standing guard outside the door. I think he's worried I'm going to try to jump out the bathroom window. I'm not. I won't fit. I already checked.
He raps on the door, rattling the whole thing in the frame.
"Hold your horses, cowboy!" I shout, jumping a foot into the air as my heart knocks against my breastbone.
Jesus. I need to get myself under control. He kissed me and turned me into a crazy person. Okay, so maybe he turned me into a crazy person when he started emailing me. Whatever. The point is, I'm a twenty-six-year-old woman. I've been on my own since I was eighteen. Even before then, I was taking care of myself. I pay my own bills, own my own home, and my own business. I take care of my own orgasms, and even know how to change my own oil. I cannot go full stupid over a man. Even if he does look like Cord Decker and talk like Cord Decker and smirk like Cord Decker and make me tingle like Cord Decker….
"You told him you were a cattle thief," I remind myself. "Who does that?!"
This is beyond the pale, even for me. I'm risking actual jailtime here, all because I'm literally terrified to admit that I came here to see him. It makes no sense, not even in my head. But there's something about him that just…scares the crap out of me. It's a little voice, growing louder and more insistent by the minute. One telling me that he's important. I heard it whispering in Seattle. It's only grown louder since I got here.
Except real life doesn't work like my books. People don't fall in love over email. Men like Cord don't end up with women who look like me. That's not insecurity talking either. That's simply the way the world works. Hot, successful men end up with hot, successful women. Not with dramatic, curvy authors who prefer cats to people and can't even leave the house without causing trouble. My mom has been saying it my whole life.
If you don't lose a little weight, you'll never find a man.
Men like women who put in effort, daughter.
If you don't stop talking so much, you'll die alone, Cassiopeia.
Smile more. Stand up straight. Be silent. No one cares about your silly little books.
Grow up. Real life isn't a fairytale.
I've always done my best to tune her out and ignore her. If the men she always brought home were what I had to look forward to, I figured I was better off anyway. But none of them ever looked at her the way Cord looked at me today. There was a softness in his eyes I've never seen before.
He knows I'm not a cattle thief. In fact, I'm pretty sure he knows exactly who I am. Yet he's playing along anyway. I have no idea how I'm going to talk myself out of this without sounding deranged. I need time to figure it out. Luckily, I seem to have plenty of that since I'm stuck here.
Crap. The girls.
They're going to flip when I don't come back.
"I'll just tell them I'm stranded because of the storm!" I blurt. They never have to know that I told this man I was a cattle thief. As for Cord, I'll just explain that I was doing research for a book and needed it to be as authentic as possible. He'll probably be grumpy about it, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. It's far better than admitting that I came here to secretly spy on him, got caught by his bull, nearly died, and then came up with a terrible cover story. Right?
It's the truth. Only less like me and more…palatable.
"Rhys is going to kill me."
"Who the fuck is Rhys?" Cord growls from the doorway.
I scream, flinging the comb in his direction. I watch in horror as it whips through the air, headed straight toward his face. He snatches it out of mid-air like freaking Batman and tosses it toward the sink. He doesn't even look at it. He just grabs it and throws it aside as he stomps toward me, looking all hot and grumpy.
"Who the fuck is Rhys, Cassia?" he growls.
"You scared the crap out of me."
"Answer the question." He stops in front of me, a thunderous scowl on his face, hands on his hips, feet planted apart, far too sexy for me to deal with right now. Thank God he put on a shirt, or I would not survive this confrontation. He's covered in tattoos from his neck to his waist. If real cowboys look like him, I've been doing my readers a disservice because mine certainly aren't built like this.