Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
And somewhere between the way she’d softened just now and the way she always snapped right back to teasing, it clicked — the sarcasm, the wit, the constant deflection. It wasn’t just who she was. It was how she protected herself.
I wondered why that defense mechanism was there.
I wondered what it would take to get past it.
“What you said to Zara earlier…” I started. “It seemed personal.”
“That’s not a question.”
“Do you really feel like you don’t fit in?”
She swallowed, but to her credit, her eyes never left mine.
“I know I don’t,” she said. “But I’ve also learned that’s not a bad thing. It may land me in some trouble sometimes but… I don’t mind it. I want to stand out. I’m loud. I say what I mean. I like living on the edge.” She shrugged. “Safe is boring. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that I don’t want to live a boring life.”
I couldn’t help it, though I tried. I bit back a smile but it broke through anyway, and a laugh barreled out of me.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s just… we could not be more opposite if we tried.”
“You are pretty boring.”
“I prefer it that way. You said safe is boring, but I say boring is safe.”
Emily watched me for a long moment, her eyes flitting up to the screen above the door that had her stop coming up next.
“I’ll go car shopping with you.”
I shook my head. “That’s not—”
“A suggestion, I know. It’s fact. I’m going. Give me your phone.”
She stuck her hand out, wiggling her fingers when I sat there dumbfounded. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I dug out my cell and handed it to her, watching as she typed her number in, texted herself, and then tossed the device back to me.
She stood then, grabbing her bag and heaving it over her shoulder. I resisted the urge to get off at her stop just to carry the ridiculously heavy thing so she didn’t have to. “Let me know the day and time.”
“We’re not supposed to be fraternizing.”
“Then I guess we better keep it to ourselves, Boss.”
She winked, and then bent down to plant a kiss on my cheek before she bounded off the train, leaving me no chance to argue.
Braden
I managed to put off car shopping for two weeks, but that was as long as Emily would let me get away with before she was practically dragging me by the ear down to Aurora Ave Auto Row.
“What about this one?” she asked, smoothing her hand over the hood of a black BMW X1. “It’s nice but understated. Not too flashy. Not like buying a sports car or something, but also brings a little luxury.”
She shimmied her shoulders when she said luxury, her lips curling up as she turned her gaze on me.
My chest had a very unwelcome reaction to that attention.
I’d decided no matter how hard I tried, it was no use trying to restrain my attraction toward this woman. She was just so fucking beautiful, so smart, so witty and goddamnit — funny. She was so funny. Even when she wasn’t trying, she made me want to laugh when I’d spent most of my life feeling guilty for even considering it.
Today, she was dressed in cut-off jean shorts that hugged her toned thighs and gapped at the back part of her waistline, due to her magnificent ass filling out the denim so perfectly. Her lean stomach was on display under her crop t-shirt, which had a picture of corn husks on it and read crop top. I’d laughed to myself when I’d first seen her in it. I was decidedly laughing less since I realized she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath it, and every time she lifted her arms I caught a glimpse of the sweet swells of her breasts.
Fucking hell, this woman was wrecking me and all my self-control.
“What do you think?” she asked, popping her sunglasses up long enough to squint up at me and make eye contact. She’d changed her hair since I’d last seen her. It was piled high in a half-up ponytail, two strands of bangs framing her face, the rest of it spilling down her back in big, glossy curls that bounced every time she moved. Honey-blonde highlights threaded through the dark waves, catching the sun with every tilt of her head. Her makeup was just as lethal — sharp brows, thick lashes that framed her dark eyes lined in smoky shadow, and lips coated in a glassy nude gloss that made it impossible not to stare.
“I think it’s twenty grand over my budget.”
“It’s a Beamer! It’s worth the extra cost.”
“No,” I said simply, and then I began walking the rest of the used cars. We’d already been to one dealership that was a bust. I was hoping this one had more promise. From their online catalog, it seemed they did — but you never knew how frequently those things were updated or how accurate they were. Salesmen were too busy making sales to worry about updating listings.