Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I growl out loud, frustrated beyond belief.
“Is this a private party or can anyone join?”
I look up at the door, my body tensing when I see the guy that was talking with my brother outside. I let my gaze rake over him, taking him all in.
There’s a lot to take in.
The guy is definitely all muscle and brawn. He’s not sexy in the common sense. Blonde hair, greenish to blue eyes—it’s kind of hard to tell. He might be considered sexy if you’re into eighties hairbands. Luckily, I don’t suffer from that affliction.
“It’s inside of my soon-to-be sister-in-law’s house. So, I’m thinking private.”
“Beau likes me,” he says, sitting in the chair opposite of me.
“Are you sure about that? For some reason, I have my doubts,” I murmur.
“I’m positive. Women in general love me,” he says with a creepy grin.
I take a swig of my beer. “Full of yourself much?”
“Not sure about that, but I’d like to make you full of me,” he responds, his voice a southern drawl that I’m sure some women love. It’s annoying to me.
“I’ll take what are corny pickup lines by losers for a hundred, Alex,” I mutter.
To my surprise, he laughs. “Oh, Izzy, I think I’m really going to like you.”
“You’d be amazed at how little I care …” I lean in to read the patch on his cut and snort at what I read. “I refuse to call a grown-ass man Candyman,” I grumble.
“Don’t like it?”
“God, no.”
“You can call me Caleb.”
“Or better yet, I could just not call you.”
“Are you always such a hard-ass, Izzy?” he asks, looking at me as if he’s trying to figure out who I am. I shake my head. I’m not even sure who I am most days. I doubt some stranger who is so cocky that his ego has trouble fitting inside the house can do it.
“Are you always so annoying?” I counter.
“Most women don’t think I am. I’m actually finding it interesting that you do.”
“Sorry to bruise your ego,” I mutter, taking another swig of beer.
“Nah. My ego is fine. I feel sorry for you,” he practically purrs.
“And why is that? Is it because you’re subjecting me to your company?” I ask, admitting only to myself that I’m having fun talking to him.
“Nope. It’s because I love challenges and right now it’s like I’m a bull and you’re waving your pretty little red thong at me.”
I snort not expecting that answer. My hand goes to my mouth as I get strangled with the drink of beer that I just chugged. It’s so bad that I feel the burning sting in my nose. “Asshole,” I cough.
“Shock you, did I, Izzy, baby?”
“The name is Isolde.”
“Isolde?” he questions.
“Yep,” I answer. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I don’t own a thong—and definitely not a red one. The color red annoys me.”
“Well, that’s a little disappointing,” he says, watching me so closely that I have to resist the urge to shift in my seat.
“Sucks to be you. I better go outside. I’m pretty sure Dad or BB will have a stroke if one of them come in here and sees us talking.”
“Do you always live your life afraid of what your family might say or do?”
I shake my head with a bitter laugh. “You really are an asshole, Candyman.”
“I thought you said you’d never call me that,” he counters.
“That’s when I thought you were an adult. Turns out I was wrong.” I quickly get up from the couch. I’m at the back door before I even know it. It’s as if I’m on autopilot. I just want away from this guy. I don’t know what it is, but something about him just sets me on edge. I have enough stress in my life. I don’t need more.
“See you soon, Isolde.”
I wince at the use of my full name. I don’t know what possessed me to tell him what it was. I thought insisting he call me by my full name instead of the name those I care about use would somehow make a clear line that Caleb couldn’t cross. Clearly, I’m an idiot.
“Not if I see you first,” I grumble walking outside while his laughter rings out behind me. I shake my head, refusing to admit that the man has a really good laugh.
“I see you’re the kind of girl who likes to get the last word in.”
I stop on the front step and turn back to look at him. “That wasn’t the last word. That was merely me talking to myself about what an idiot you are. If I wanted the last word, I would have told you that I don’t own a red thong because I don’t wear panties at all, but you don’t need to worry about that because you will never see me without clothes on.”