Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Taking hold of my hand again, he has quite the clip of a pace for someone who claims they’re so tired. Sure, it’s 3 a.m., but who walks this fast? New Yorkers. I rest my own case.
“I never gave you the tour.” Oh. Okay. It’s as good a time as any, I suppose . . . I will never figure this man out. He taps the door across the hall. “This is Roman’s room.”
As we hurry past it, I say, “Guess I can actually see it in the morning. Don’t let me stop you.”
Pulling me behind him, he points at the next door. “Guest room. There’s a bathroom in each bedroom.”
“My sisters would kill for my room. Simply for the en suite bathroom. I used to lie awake at night, wondering which one was going to do me in so they could steal my bedroom after the funeral.”
I run into the back of him when he stops abruptly. Peeling myself off, I ask, “What happened?”
He turns around and stares at me like he can’t make sense of my face. I’m checking if the shape of my nose is still the same when he asks, “Are you serious?”
“About what?”
“Your sisters possibly killing you for your room because it has a bathroom?”
My laughter spills through the hallway, leaving my shoulders rattling under the pressure. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not.” Then Spring comes to mind . . . I laugh again. “Though the youngest is awfully talented with a chainsaw. Spring won the ice sculpting contest at the holiday fair two years ago. She was the youngest contestant to ever enter and to win.”
“What did she carve?”
“Our old neighbor Bill—”
“I can’t with you, can I?” He’s off again, dragging me along with him like a bee has gotten in his bonnet.
“Well,” I say, bobbing my head side to side. “In Spring’s defense, and to be fair, that neighbor was quite the jerk. He used to drag me around by the hand a lot like you are now.”
Coming to another stop, he ruins any kind of gravity he was striving for with his chuckles, and he scrubs his free hand over his face. Standing in front of me, he huffs with a big old smile on his face before cupping mine and kissing me. “I’ve never known anyone like you.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Yes.”
Lifting onto my toes, I kiss him quick like I’m getting away with a stolen piece of candy from a shop. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His token phrase is back in action, I hear.
Batting my lashes, I add, “And because curious minds want to know, the winning ice sculpture was a hagfish.”
“I’m not sure I was that curious.”
“It really just looked like a penis. The judges were all women, though, that year, and agreed it was a fantastic likeness.”
His expression scrunches his nose almost to his forehead. “To a hagfish or a penis?”
“Both.”
Pulling us forward, he grumbles under his breath, “Just leave it next time, Mav.”
I skip ahead to catch up, wondering where the tour is stopping next. “You call yourself Mav?”
“Huh?” He stops with his hand on the knob of a closed door off the entry.
Standing with the tip of my big toes pressed to his, I say, “You said, and I quote, ‘Just leave it next time, Mav.’ You called yourself Mav.”
“You don’t talk to yourself?” He scratches the back of his head. Maybe this conversation is a little much for the time of day.
“All the time, but I use Summer or Sum.”
“Well, mine is Daniel or Mav. Same thing.” Not really, but I’m thinking this isn’t worth the tit for tat. Reaching up, he slides his fingers along the doorframe and pulls a key down. “Safety measures with Roman around.” He unlocks the door and guides me in before him.
I scramble to turn around, grabbing onto the drawstring of his pants. I’m a terrible person for thinking there’s a chance he’s locking me in here for the night, right? Yes, Summer. I shouldn’t have let American Psycho enter my psyche. Now I’m all twisted with mistrust, which is misplaced in Daniel’s case. He’s been inside me. Trust has been established.
As if everything else was left in the entry, he smiles like he did earlier when he first woke—correction . . . when I woke him up. Sweet and sleepy at the same time. “Turn around,” he whispers.
His arms come around me when I do, holding me to his chest as if I’m precious to him. Moonlight shines inside, lighting up the room. “This is my office. Sometimes I need fresh air, too.”
I grin. It feels like we took the scenic route, but we got here in the end. He was listening. The room is larger than I would have expected for a home office and bigger than our family room at home. Creamy fabric-covered couch that looks like the perfect spot to take an afternoon nap. If it’s raining outside, even better. The desk is modern wood and so large that visions of getting naughty come to mind. Paintings hang above the couch and are opposite a fireplace. So cozy.