Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“You’re not hungry?” he asked.
“Oh, uh, I . . .” Her stomach chose that moment to grumble. Stupid stomach. She glared down at it. “Way to betray me there, buddy.”
Heat filled her face, and she knew she’d gone bright red. She heaved in a breath.
Wow, Gracen. First, you mention your sticky buns, then you talk to your stomach. Way to act crazy.
“Eat. You’re hungry. You haven’t had breakfast?”
So, he was going to ignore the fact that she’d just spoken to her stomach like it was sentient?
Suited her.
“I don’t usually eat breakfast.”
“You should.”
“I usually sleep in till the last minute. And I’m always snacking as I bake, so I figure I don’t need the extra calories of breakfast on top of that. I’m hardly at risk of fading away here.” She gave a self-conscious laugh, gesturing at herself.
You’re an idiot, Grace. Way to point out your flaws to the gorgeous guy that just bought you breakfast.
“No,” he said firmly.
“What?” she asked, confused.
“No, you’re not doing that.”
“Doing what?” Was her body doing something she wasn’t aware of? Her foot wasn’t touching his, was it? She wasn’t subconsciously rubbing herself up against him like a cat.
Because sometimes it felt like her body acted without consulting her brain first. But all of her limbs seemed to be behaving themselves, so she shot her gaze back to his.
Were his lips quirking? Or was she imagining that? If they had been, they’d stopped already.
“Why did you say no? What was I doing?”
“Saying ridiculous things about yourself. Things that aren’t true and that you won’t say again.”
“I won’t?”
“Nope.”
“Why won’t I?” she asked, tilting her face to the side.
“Because I said so.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Do people often do as you say, Mr. . . . ?”
“Call me Victor.”
“Okay, Victor. Do people often do what you say?”
“Yes. Always.”
She swallowed, a sense of daring washing over her. “Oh, yeah? And you think I’ll be the same?”
His gaze moved over her face slowly. “Of course.”
“You might be disappointed then. If all you want is someone who says yes.”
“Oh, I won’t be disappointed.”
She wasn’t entirely certain if he meant he wouldn’t be disappointed because she’d be doing what he said or if he’d been implying that he could never be disappointed in her.
The former, for sure.
Thinking otherwise was just foolish.
“You all right?” he asked.
She realized then that he’d been saying something, and she’d totally tuned him out. Rude.
She blushed. “Sorry, sometimes my mind wanders.”
He just studied her for a long moment.
“You can’t stop me from calling myself fat, you know.”
His gaze grew dark.
“I can’t believe I just blurted that out. I think it’s because I live alone. You know . . . you start talking to yourself, then you start thinking you need a cat so that you have someone to talk to without looking like a complete moron, then you think you don’t have time for a cat, so you get a goldfish only they don’t live long and when they die you fall into a funk and declare that you’ll never get a pet again. So, then you go back to talking to yourself. And are you really not going to stop me from rambling?”
He should have stopped her by now, right? Put her out of her misery or something.
Lord, this was embarrassing.
“Do you tell a lot of people that you live alone?”
That was what he wanted to focus on? She ran her hand over her face. “No. I don’t.”
She saw his skeptical look.
“I really don’t. I do have some self-preservation skills. There’s just something about you . . .”
He raised his eyebrows.
“You feel safe,” she blurted out. “I know that’s stupid.”
She waited for him to say something. To make some excuse to leave. Although, she’d have thought he’d have taken off after she started talking to her stomach.
“You’re always safe with me, Gracen,” he said instead. He spoke in such a solemn voice, it settled like a blanket around her shoulders.
She was safe with him.
“You know my name?” Perhaps she should be concerned. What if he was some sort of weirdo stalker?
This time his lips definitely twitched, and warmth filled his eyes, lightening them. “You have a name badge.”
She closed her eyes.
Idiot.
“I really shouldn’t be allowed to talk to people. Sorry if I implied that you’re, well, a . . .”
“Stalker?” he prompted.
And she knew she was bright red again. “Uh, yeah. Sorry.” Was there an appropriate way to apologize for basically accusing someone of stalking you?
Not exactly.
“Eat,” he urged. She opened her eyes and noticed that he hadn’t touched his sticky bun. Was he waiting on her? She picked off a piece of the bun, settling it in her mouth with a hum of pleasure. These really were good, even if she said so herself.
His gaze was watching her, satisfaction filling his face. She wasn’t sure why. When she started eating, he did the same.