Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Well, news flash.
That life no longer fucking existed.
“If I can get up every day and move through a world in which my parents are dead, I can go without having designer stores and fancy restaurants at my fingertips.” I shoved a forkful of pasta in my mouth before I told him to go fuck himself.
Tense silence thrummed between us.
“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Ramsay finally offered.
“No?” I cocked my head, smirking unhappily at him. “Or was it more that you didn’t think I would recognize the insult?”
Something gleamed in his eyes. “Fair enough.” He studied me for a second too long, making it difficult for me to catch my breath. What was it about this man? Even annoyed at him, I was hot and bothered. “Did you finish your book?”
Taken aback by the question, it took me a second to respond. “Almost.”
“Did … she enjoy all of her neighbors?”
At the seriousness with which he asked, I couldn’t help but laugh.
Ramsay flashed me a quick grin and there went my breath catching again.
I wanted to see him smile like that without the bushy beard.
It crinkled the corners of his eyes in the sexiest way.
“Yes,” I answered primly, lips straining against amusement. “She thoroughly enjoyed all three neighbors, and they thoroughly enjoyed her in return. They are currently being typical dickheads at this point in the book, but I expect copious amounts of groveling in the next few chapters.”
“Groveling?” He frowned incredulously.
“Oh yeah, it’s hot. I love a good grovel.” At his bemusement, I grinned and gestured to his books behind me. “You have quite the library. Though I’m guessing there are no Why Choose Romance novels on those shelves.”
“No, there aren’t.” He shook his head, staring past me to the books. “I inherited them.”
“Have you read them all?”
“Not all. But I’ve made a dent.”
“How old are you?” The question was out before I could stop it. I flushed.
Ramsay quirked an eyebrow. “How old do you think I am?”
Hearing the teasing in his tone, I relaxed ever so slightly. “Midthirties?”
“Forty.”
That surprised me. I knew he was older than me, but I didn’t know he was thirteen years older.
I wasn’t usually attracted to older men.
But now I didn’t know why because this man was more man than I’d ever encountered in my life.
“I’m twenty-seven,” I replied to have something to say so I didn’t blurt out how sexy I found him.
“I know.” He chewed on another bite of pasta and looked down at Akiva who sat by his chair, eyes round with begging. “No, sweetheart. You’ll get something later.”
He called his dog sweetheart.
This man was trying to kill me.
“What’s your favorite book?” I asked, changing the subject.
Ramsay took one last massive bite, chewed while not quite meeting my eyes, and stood. Finally he said, “Dunno.” He dumped his plate in the sink. “Just put your plate here when you’re finished. I’ll be in my workshop if you need me. I’ll be back at eleven to take you over.”
The man was gone before I was finished gaping in astonishment at his abrupt departure.
I looked at Akiva, and she stared back at me expectantly. “Has he always been the human version of whiplash?”
I could have sworn Akiva gave me a commiserating jerk of her snout.
Sure enough, Ramsay stayed away for the rest of the evening.
Bored, I’d washed and dried the dishes. I’d also gone out to ask about Akiva’s dinner and Ramsay hadn’t even looked up from the rocking chair when he provided me with her feeding instructions.
The rest of the night, Akiva and I lazed on the couch. I finished my book (there was a good grovel) and then I ran the battery down on my phone playing solitaire until my eyes blurred. I tried to connect to the internet because according to my phone, there was a network. But it was private so I couldn’t connect without a password. A thorough search of the house revealed no router so I could only assume my phone was picking up networks from Leth Sholas.
How Ramsay survived over here without the internet, I did not know. Connection on the island wasn’t the strongest, but it did the job. Here on Stòr, there was nothing. How did people contact Ramsay? How did he work with clients when he was so unreachable? Other than the VHF radio, the man had no way of communicating with people from his island.
I, of course, wanted to ask him about it, but I was still stung by the way he’d walked out after dinner. There was being a man of mystery and then there was just being a dick.
By ten fifty I had my backpack together and I’d already hugged Akiva goodbye. I stepped out onto the porch, car keys at the ready, and stopped, contemplating letting Ramsay know I was leaving. Despite his rudeness, he had let me stay in his house and he’d fed me. He wasn’t all bad.