Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Her face scrunches up. "If that's all it takes, you need better boxes, Mason."
"There may be a few others. We'll discuss those later."
"You really want to go out with me? This isn't, like, a pity thing because I feel like a jerk, right?"
"I've wanted to go out with you since you told me that you were stealing the mail, Olive. We don't have to rush," I murmur. "We can take it slow, get to know one another. It doesn't have to be anything more than dinner."
"Okay."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She grins up at me, her cheeks pink. "I'd like that. Just…do me a favor?"
"Name it."
"Um, if you change your mind, would you let me know?"
"What?"
"If you change your mind, can you let me know? I don't really want to be ghosted again," she says, her gaze drifting from mine.
What the fuck? Who the fuck was stupid enough to ghost her? Whoever he was, he was a fucking idiot.
"I won't change my mind."
"Just promise me."
"I promise," I say softly.
She beams at me in response, relief stamped into every line of her face. Something about that makes me want to kiss her and kill for her at the same damn time. Whoever made her so leery didn't deserve her, and they never will. Fuck that guy.
"What are you doing tonight?" I ask.
"This." She motions at the store around her. "I promised to help out here tonight."
"Tomorrow?"
"I work tomorrow, but I'm free tomorrow night."
"Perfect." I grin at her. "Then you're all mine tomorrow night."
She blushes again, glancing at the floor.
"You need help with…whatever the fuck you're doing in here?"
"You want to help?"
"Why not?" I shrug. "Beats going home to be bullied by my bird."
I'm going to dream about her sweet smile for the rest of my life, I'm sure of it.
Chapter Six
Olive
Every outfit I own is officially on my bedroom floor, but the results are worth it. Mason can't stop staring when he knocks on the door at seven, dressed in a tight Henley and faded jeans with my tattered copy of The Princess Bride and a bouquet of flowers in his hands.
"Damn, Rebel," he whistles, his eyes eating me alive. "You're a knockout."
I give him a little spin, grinning. "You like?"
"Come here." He holds out a hand toward me, waiting for me to take it before hauling me up against the hard wall of his chest. His lips land against my ear. "The only way I'd like it any more is if it were on my bedroom floor," he growls against my skin before groaning softly. "You look fucking magical."
My heart does this funny thing where it races and floats at the same time. I like the feeling, a lot actually. I press a soft kiss to his cheek, shivering at the way his growl vibrates through me.
"Here, baby." He presses the book and flowers into my hand. "These are for you. And this—" He pulls a tiny bone out of his pocket with a flourish— "is for Oscar."
I glance down at the bone, smiling like a mad woman. "You brought Oscar a present?"
"Yeah, of course." He smirks at me, his eyes light. "Gotta start earning his affection now since he hates me."
My heart does that thing again.
"Did you read it?"
"What?"
I hold up The Princess Bride.
"Oh." He smiles at me. "I did."
"What did you think?"
"Well, it's no Serial Killer's Guide…" he teases, "but not bad."
I shake my head, laughing at him.
"Are you ready to go?"
"I am," I murmur. "I just need to put these in water and wrangle Oscar first. He's refusing to come inside." I take a step back and then hesitate. "Do you want to come in?"
The heat in his eyes screams that he does. "I think I should wait out here," he mutters, not hiding the way he adjusts himself. "If I don't, I may not behave myself."
I bite my lip to keep from whimpering out loud.
"Go take care of Oscar, Rebel. I'll wait."
I stumble back inside, nearly tripping over my own damn feet. I stop in the kitchen long enough to move the bouquet to a vase, promising myself I'll do it properly later, and then I hurry out onto the back porch to find Oscar.
As expected, he's in the screened-in section of the backyard, living his best life on his little Yorkie-sized lawn chair, soaking up the evening sun. Honestly, he'd probably live out here if I let him. He likes it way better out here than he does inside, but it's too cold at night for him to be out here.
He lifts his head to look at me.
"You gotta come inside, Oscar," I say softly.
He snorts and immediately puts his head down again, closing his eyes.
I chuckle, hurrying across the grass toward him. "Screening all of this in for you turned you into a diva," I mutter, scooping him up. "You want to spend all of your time out here in your little kingdom, and none with me."