Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“I’ll wait here.”
“I’ll be quick.” Opening the door, he steps out, but before he closes the door, he makes sure to lock it. Protected and safe. Always with him.
Watching him walk away is quite the view, too. He gives fantastic backside, even better when he’s naked. My insides shiver in giddiness that he’s mine. Even if only for the time being.
I sit back, adjusting the seat belt from scraping my neck when Baylor’s phone lights up on the console. Tagger texts: Four rims and a new steering wheel showed up today. You can order all the parts you want. You’re still losing this bet, fucker.
Having no idea what he’s talking about, I glance up to see Baylor at the register inside. He waves the ice cream like he struck gold. Laughing, I wave back.
Another text pops up, causing my gaze to deviate back to the lighted screen: Pris said she thinks Lauralee is seeing someone. Is it you? Did you finally score to win the bet?
I read that again.
And then once more until Baylor exits the store and walks to the driver’s side of the vehicle. Bending down, he taps the glass and then points at the lock, which is fastened.
My gaze moves back to his phone just before the screen goes dark again. “Did you finally score to win the bet?” loops in my head.
A tap on the glass brings me back to him . . . Am I just a bet? He did this for a car? I know what car he wagered, too. The only one that would be worth sacrificing me for in return—the 911. His mom’s car.
God, I’m such a fool for falling for him.
I feel sick.
“Open the door, Lauralee. The ice cream is melting.”
Glancing over, I say, “I don’t want it.”
His brows buckle together in the middle. “Why not?”
Wrapping my arms over my stomach, I try to keep myself from vomiting. He gets the hint I wasn’t intending and walks to the trash can outside the door to toss it. I push the button to unlock the door and then angle away from him toward my window.
When he gets in, he rubs my shoulder. “Feeling carsick?”
“Yeah,” I reply, deciding it’s easier to go with that until I can process what I’ve discovered. A bet. Just thinking about it brings me closer to tears.
“Do you want to sit here a bit longer or go for a short walk to get fresh air? We’re not far from the house. Less than an hour if you want me to drive to get there sooner. Tell me what you want to do.”
His voice is distancing as I fade into my thoughts. I summon the strength to reply, “Just drive.”
“Sorry you’re not feeling well.”
I roll my eyes, and snap, “I bet.”
“What?”
I don’t bother repeating myself. I need to figure out my next step. Trapped in the Hamptons at his boss’s house isn’t ideal, but neither is paying for a car to take me back to the city. Five hours . . . that would be a month’s worth of rent. I sigh, realizing I’m going to be stuck, so I need to make a plan to get through the weekend. Anger is going to be my best ally.
Meeting his boss and his wife wasn’t as painful as I expected, and they were over the moon to find out we got married. With those formalities out of the way, we settle in upstairs in one of the eight bedrooms they chose for us.
It’s beautiful in buttery yellow and white with pale blue accents. More formal than I’m used to. This would get so dirty back home after a long day out on those dusty roads and ranches.
I finish touching up my makeup and brushing my hair in the bathroom, which I locked him out of so I could be alone. I manage to zip up the white dress I chose for the party to go along with the Fourth of July theme, and because when I saw it yesterday as a wedding option, I knew it was better suited for today. And since he was paying . . . I just wish I had known about this bet then. I would have kept everything.
When I come out, he’s lying on the bed fully dressed and waiting. He catcalls me. “Turn for me.” Funny how I found that so charming yesterday, and today, it makes me want to light a fire to burn the place down.
“We should go.” I pull the door open and start down the hall.
His heavy footsteps echo behind me. “Hey, Shortcake?”
I keep walking, reaching the top of the staircase. As soon as I take hold of the railing, I’m stopped by his stupid giant wall of a body standing in my way. I shift to the right, but he shifts with me. I go left, and he’s still there blocking me. “What’s going on? Why are you mad?”