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)
The dining room is filled with boxes in various stages of unpacking, although most appear to be empty. There are random household items scattered across the top of her table. Despite the chaos, it's organized. Neat. It already looks more lived in than my place, and I've been in mine for the last two years.
"You've gotten a lot done," I murmur as she hurries toward the coffee table to grab her cell.
"Thanks. Classes start on Monday, so I'm hoping to have it all done by then."
"Classes?" There's no goddamn way she's in college. She's young, but not that young.
"Yeah. I'm going to be teaching at Wiley J. Clifford for the rest of the school year. English." She beams at me as she sashays toward me with the phone in her hands.
"Nice. What grade?"
"Tenth."
"Impressive."
"Really? Why?"
"Uh, because I barely passed the tenth grade?" I chuckle at the look of horror on her face. "I'm serious. I skipped so many classes, my hockey coach threatened to start attending with me if I didn't get my head out of my ass."
"You didn't like school?"
"Fuck no. I liked hockey and finding ways to get out of school." I grin at her. "I was an inventive little asshole."
She laughs softly, holding the phone out to me. "I was a nerd. I loved school."
"There's nothing nerdy about you, Cameron."
"Speak for yourself, Kirk." She plants a hand on her hip, her eyes narrowing at me. "I'm a proud nerd, thank you very much."
She's the sexiest fucking nerd I've ever met. Christ, she's growing more fascinating by the minute.
"Are you hungry?"
I blink at her. "What?"
"Are you hungry?"
Fuck yes. Starving, actually. Mind bending over the sofa so I can eat you, Dimples?
"What?" I mumble.
"Food, Noah." Her lips curve into a smile. "Do you want something to eat? And by something, I mean lasagna."
Of course she isn't offering herself up on a silver platter, you jackass.
"Oh, uh…" I trail off, nodding lamely.
She beams at me, flashing that dimple again. "I'll make plates while you call your partner."
She scurries into the dining room, leaving me staring after her.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter when she vanishes into the kitchen. I discreetly adjust my cock, squeezing the hard bastard like that'll get him under control again. It doesn't work, so I give it up as a lost cause and text Jackson.
Me: I locked myself out. Can you swing by with the spare key?
Jackson: Uh, who the fuck is this?
"Shit," I growl, shaking my head.
Me: Noah. I had to borrow my neighbor's phone.
Jackson: Your hot neighbor?
Me: You're an idiot. Bring my key.
Jackson: Fine. Give me an hour.
I hesitate for a long moment and then quickly type out another text.
Me: Make it two.
He immediately sends back the crying laughing emoji before I delete the whole conversation so there's no evidence. What? I'm a cop, and I'm not trying to get my ass kicked here. I'm just making the most of my time with Elsie.
Satisfied that she's stuck with me for at least a little while, I start to set her phone down, and then quickly think better of it. I take a second to program my number into her phone and then call my cell so I have her number. Diabolical? Perhaps. But she didn't tell me not to do it, so there's that.
Pleased with myself, I set the phone back where she got it and then stroll through the dining room into the kitchen, only to stop in the doorway to watch her. She moves around the kitchen effortlessly, humming to herself as she plates lasagna and then adds chunks of freshly baked bread to each.
"Oh!" She startles when she turns and sees me standing there. "Jesus, you're like a freaking ninja."
"You looked like you were having fun. I didn't want to interrupt." I flash a grin at her. "Were you humming Tupac?"
"What? No?" She scrunches her nose up at me. "Worry about yourself, Officer."
"Detective."
"What?"
"I'm a detective, Dimples."
"Well, excuse me then," she mutters, sassing the shit out of me. "Worry about yourself, Detective."
"Fine." I hold up my hands, smirking at her. "Then I won't tell you that the cat outside my window at three a.m. is going to fall in love with you."
She gasps like she's outraged and launches a piece of bread at my head, but I don't miss the grin on her lips or the amusement in her eyes. "I see how it is," she retorts when I duck the flying bread. "I let you borrow my phone. I feed you. And still, you insult me."
"You were humming Tupac off-key. That's a sin."
"Save it." She sticks her nose up in the air at me. "I've got your number now."
She does, actually.
"Oh, yeah?" I stride forward, grabbing the plates from her hands. "I have a feeling you'll get over it."
"We'll see," she mutters.
"Where am I taking these?"