Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
I sit up and take a sip of whiskey before glancing at my best friend, knowing exactly how this conversation is about to go. “You ever met someone and immediately understood why men used to start wars over women?”
“No. Because I’m not that fucking stupid.”
“Oh, you would be if you’d met her.”
“Who’s her?”
“Your neighbor across the hall,” I tell him. “I just ran into her outside, and fuck, man, she’s one hell of a wild spitfire. Fucking insane.”
He takes a drink and shakes his head. “Just the way you like ’em then?”
I grin. What can I say? I have a type. And insane is generally my perfect cup of tea. “Damn straight,” I tell him, falling into a deep consideration. “This one is different. She’s fucking stunning, and has a mouth on her too.”
“In what way?”
My grin widens. “In every way that counts.”
He immediately sighs, probably regretting asking as I sink deeper into the couch, one arm stretched across the backrest like I’m discussing mortgage rates instead of the woman I’m probably going to spend the foreseeable future chasing like a lost puppy.
“She’s sharp. Not afraid to take a bite out of my ego. Most women I meet hold back, but not this one. She knew what she wanted and went for it. No bars held. And fuck, she’s hot enough that I would have apologized for things I didn’t do. A complete menace.”
“Shit, Maddox,” Hunter says with a sigh. “A chick is going to complicate things.”
“Nah,” I say, shaking my head. “Not this one.”
“Let me guess, she’s different.”
I throw back what’s left of my whiskey and grin at my best friend. “Something like that.”
He rolls his eyes and puts his glass down on the coffee table, his elbows braced against his knees. “I take it you were the moron I heard fucking in the side alley ten minutes ago?”
A laugh booms from deep in my chest, and I don’t need to respond. The laugh was confirmation enough.
“Fuck, man. You were loud. You know people are sleeping around here.”
“Clearly not you.”
His gaze shifts to the glass in his hand, not meeting my stare. “Had work to do.”
Suspicion begins creeping in. “You just get in?”
“Mm-hmm.”
My stare narrows on him, but I know better than to push about his work. If he wanted to tell me about it, he would, and clearly, it’s not in the cards tonight.
Hunter exhales something suspiciously close to amusement, and I grin wider. “So, this girl,” he says, picking up right where we left off. “You planning on seeing her again?”
I nod. “I’d be a fool to let her slip through my fingers,” I admit. “But I ain’t chasing. That little savage will come crawling to me.”
Hunter pauses, his head snapping up as his hand tightens on his whiskey. “What did you just call her?”
I blink, confused. “Savage.”
“Clarify.”
The fuck is wrong with this idiot?
“Clarify savage?”
“Yes.”
I laugh. “What, is there a broad savage spectrum I should be aware of?”
He doesn’t respond, just stares, waiting for me to give him what he wants, and I throw my hands out, having no fucking idea why the word caused this kind of reaction in him. “I don’t know. She’s feisty. Smart mouth, slightly terrifying, and has an attitude that could bring any man to his knees. I don’t know whether to kiss her feet or update my will. Why? What’s the problem?”
His brows furrow, and he slowly shakes his head. “It’s nothing,” he says. “It’s just . . . I took this girl out last week, and that’s what I called her.”
My jaw drops. Fuck the nickname, I’m stuck on the fact that this asshole just admitted to taking someone out. He’s private about the women he dates. He doesn’t talk about them. Period. And not because he doesn’t like to open up or because there’s no one to talk about. He goes through them just as frequently and efficiently as I do, he just doesn’t think any have been worth mentioning . . .
Until now.
I tread carefully, treating him like an injured bird who could freak out and shut down at the slightest movement. “You ahh . . . took a woman out?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
“Who is she?”
He shrugs. “No one that matters.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” I’m probably the only bastard on the planet capable of calling out Hunter Cole without losing my life. “If she didn’t matter, you wouldn’t have mentioned it, and you sure as fuck wouldn’t have been so worked up about some stupid nickname.”
Hunter rolls his eyes and throws back what’s left of his drink, seeming annoyed by the conversation, but I’m not about to let him off the hook so quickly.
“Doesn’t matter anyway,” he says. “I fucked it up.”
My jaw drops, and I gape at my best friend. “You . . . what? You fucked it up? Did the great Hunter Cole just admit fault? No! It couldn’t be.” I start feeling around, searching the couch, table, and my pockets. “Quick. I need a pen and paper. I need to write this down.”