Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
"She gave you her card." He holds out his hand, revealing only the room key. "Oh."
"I tossed it on my way out. She was strange."
"Strange?"
"She laughed at nothing. It was irritating.” I snort a laugh. "See, Zolotse? Your laugh is sweet."
"You think so?"
"Know so. This is why it will only be you in my room tonight."
"They only had one room?" I ask. I want to do a happy dance, but I keep it together. I'm playing it cool and hip. Sharing a room with a man, no big deal.
"Renovations."
"Are you sure that's okay? I don't want to intrude."
A deep chuckle rumbles from him. "I enjoy your chatter."
"Chatter?" He gives me one of his shrugs. Killian is a man of few words. Stoic, almost. "Maybe you'll tell me a bedtime story."
"Now you're teasing me," I say with a laugh as I give his arm a playful smack.
"We'll see." He starts the SUV and pulls it around to the other side of the building. "It's nothing much, but we can get sleep here and shower."
"It's great," I tell him as he slides the key so we can get in the building. The room is right there. The first one. That makes it easy. "We can look up a few places that maybe we can stop at tomorrow."
"We can do whatever you like." He opens the door to our room.
The first thing I notice is that there is only one bed. It's massive but still only one. Killian goes around the room opening the closets and checking the bathroom. I’m not sure what he’s looking for or why he’s doing it, but I have my own quirks, so who am I to judge?
“There is only one bed,” I point out. My eyes flick over to the small loveseat sitting off to the side with a coffee table. “I can take that,” I offer.
“I’m not making you sleep on the couch.” He shakes his head.
“You can’t fit on it.” I laugh.
“I’ll take the floor.”
“I can sleep on it. It’s fine,” I push back.
“My mom would be disappointed in me if I did that,” he says with a straight face.
“You don’t have one.” I roll my eyes playfully but quickly realize that’s not the right thing to say. He’s not Lily, with whom I share a dark sense of humor.
“Teddy.” He must see the horror on my face. “I’m teasing you.”
“Oh, right. It’s hard to tell with your face. You’re always like this.” I stiffen all my features the best that I can, trying to show him how stoic he looks normally. Except for when I get him to give me one of those rare smiles. His lips twitch up on one side, softening him. "It's a big bed," I point out. "We could share it," I offer, hoping I'm not crossing a line or making this awkward.
"Yes," he says without hesitation. "We'll share it. I'll give you the bathroom first."
"Such a gentleman," I tell him before snagging one of my bags from next to the door where he'd placed it.
When I get into the bathroom, I almost die when I see myself in the mirror. My hair is wild, and there are a few smudges of dirt on my clothes. I'm a mess. I quickly shower and find a pair of pajamas.
Great, Teddy, you had to pack the silliest of pajamas. Most of mine are matching sets with loose shorts and an oversized tee. That's fine, but it's the silly teddy bears all over them that don't feel so cute anymore. I probably lean into my name more than I should. Don’t get me wrong; the PJs are adorable, but now that I’m going to be wearing them in front of a handsome man, they don’t seem as appealing as they once did.
I ditch the shorts; the shirt falls past them anyways. I don't want to be a silly, dorky girl with matching pajamas. I want him to see me as a woman. When I step back out of the bathroom, I almost die again.
He's changed into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, except now I can see his bare arms. The man is covered in ink! I open and close my mouth. For once in my life, I’m truly at a loss for words. I didn’t think this man could get any hotter. How wrong I’d been.
"They’re just tattoos." He runs his hand up one arm like he's brushing them away. Does he think I'm judging them?
“They’re cool. I just wasn’t expecting it is all.” I walk over to him to get a closer look.
“They scare some people.” He doesn’t stop me when I start to trace one of them.
“Then people are dumb because you’re the nicest.” He didn’t have to offer to help me, but here he is doing it out of the kindness of his heart. “But I understand. I too get looks over how I dress.” People are always judging. I see my clothing as expression. It’s fun too.