Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I blink. “You mean, undermining me in front of the client?”
He frowns. “Undermining you? I covered for you. Most people would be—oh, what’s that word—grateful.”
My back teeth grind together as all the ways in which this day sucked start to sink in. “You think I wanted to be rescued? That’s not gratitude you’re seeing. That’s frustration, especially since you’re the one who caused all this in the first place. Now if you’ll excuse me, all my patience is used up and I’m going to walk home. I’m sure you can catch a cab to wherever your penthouse is.”
Grizz’s hand shoots out and latches onto my wrist. I turn to face him and he looks genuinely confused. “Frustration? I just made your life easier.”
I start to answer and pull my arm away at the same time, but my bag slips off my shoulder and hits the sidewalk, scattering pens, lip balm, and half my dignity.
“Great,” I mutter, crouching to scoop everything up before he can react.
Grizz bends down to help anyway, picking up items and handing them to me. I snatch a lipstick from his palm. “Don’t. Please. You’ve done enough saving for one day.”
He straightens slowly, still looking at me.
“I’m used to handling things myself,” I say, shoving everything back into my purse and rising. “I don’t need someone to swoop in and play hero. You think you helped, but all you did was make it look like I can’t fight my own battles. Kendra isn’t stupid and she knows you covered for me.”
He shakes his head subtly, clearly trying to stay patient. “Fine. No saving. Got it.”
“Good.”
“Great,” he says with a grin.
I gnash my teeth and turn on my heel. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Grizz steps in beside me, walking with an easy nonchalance. “You sure that’s a good idea, considering your sense of direction?”
I glare. “I think I can manage.”
“Probably,” he says. “But given recent evidence, I’ll make sure you’re at least walking the right way. Don’t worry, Turner… I’m not trying to save the day. Just making sure you don’t end up in New Jersey.”
I don’t dignify that with a response. I keep walking—and I do it at a pace that actually leaves him behind a few paces.
“Fast wheels on you, Daisy Turner,” he calls from behind.
“I walk with purpose,” I snap over my shoulder.
By the time we reach my street, I’ve almost convinced myself he’s going to peel off and leave me alone. I’m half a block from my building when I can’t help myself anymore, and I glance over my shoulder.
Yup. Still there, no more than five feet behind me. I resolve to push faster, but when I turn around, my heel catches a metal subway grate that would have been avoidable had I been watching where I was going. There’s a deep twist, a snapping sound, a flash of pain, and I’m suddenly on the ground, clutching my ankle.
“Jesus,” Grizz jogs up, crouching beside me. “You okay?”
“Yes,” I mutter as people walk by us. I lean to look at the outside of my ankle, convinced the snapping sound I heard was my bone, but was in fact… my heel. I pick it up, hold the three inch peg up before my eyes and nearly start crying over the loss of my Stuart Weitzmans. “My heel broke.”
“Better your heel than your ankle,” he says and then puts a strong hand under my arm. “Let me help you up.”
“I don’t need your help,” I hiss, trying to stand, but I end up using him for support, anyway. The second I put weight on my foot, pain shoots up my leg and I wince. It’s not broken, likely just a mild sprain. Probably can walk it off and with some ice tonight, it’ll be better by morning.
Still, I hobble toward my apartment building door, pathetically limping more from the difference in height between my good heel and my obliterated heel. Grizz keeps his hand on my elbow and I try to pull it away. “I’ve got it.”
“Yeah,” he says dryly, “looks like you’ve got it completely under control.”
When I reach the door, I shake off his arm so I can dig through my bag—phone, wallet, lipstick—but no keys.
“Oh my God. Where are they?” I practically stick my head in the open tote, rooting around and even giving it a good shake, but I don’t hear a jangle back. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“Looking for these?” My head snaps up and I see Grizz leaning against the railing, holding up a familiar set of silver keys.
I stare. “How—”
“You dropped them back when you dumped your purse all over the sidewalk,” he says, grinning. “You’re welcome. Seems I saved the day again, eh?”
I take them from him, biting back a retort. My ankle throbs. I glance up the stairs and dread the climb up to my apartment.