Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
A curly-haired brunette, bubbling over with giggles like she’s had too much to drink, gawks at me with her hand over her mouth as I stop at the threshold to the kitchen. “Oh, my god, Theo! You had your maid make us a candlelit dinner!” She hugs his chest still clad in his tattered gray work tee.
Maid? Really?
Theo inspects me with unnerving thoroughness, dragging his hawkish gaze down my body dressed in my nicest pair of white shorts, a black halter top, and flip-flops with silver rhinestones. I even painted my toenails a deep chardonnay.
“It’s not for—” His eyes meet mine.
“It is.” I smile. “It’s for the both of you. It’s all keeping warm in the oven. There’s salad in the fridge and a bottle of wine chilling as well. Enjoy.” I turn and navigate the stairs slowly, evenly, not giving away anything.
“Sit. I need to take a quick shower,” he says to her.
I pick up my pace, feeling him closing in on me.
“Why?” he asks before I close my bedroom door.
I turn, but words escape me.
“Another peace offering?” He says it with such disgust.
I flinch as his tone delivers each word like a smack across my face.
“I…” I shake my head “…I thought we could be human for one night.”
“Human?”
I nod, focusing on the floor between us, feeling foolish. A nervous smile trembles along my lips. “Food. Small talk. Maybe I say something that makes you grin. Maybe you say something that makes me giggle. Maybe the food is crap, so we drink too much wine. Maybe the full moon beckons us to the beach where we walk in the shadows of the night. Maybe you tell me something about yourself. Maybe it’s a lie, and maybe that’s okay because we’re both going our separate ways in four months. But maybe … just maybe for one night we feel human.”
He blinks several times. “I didn’t bring her here for dinner.”
I laugh a little, still focused on the old, scratched-up wood floor between us. “You brought her here to sleep with her.”
“Not sleep.”
My laugh grows even more. This could not be more awkward. “Of course not.” I clear my throat. “Well, she seems pretty excited about dinner, so you really should feed her before you …” Risking a glance up, my nose wrinkles. “Not sleep with her. I’ll leave and give you some privacy.” I turn and shut my door, drawing in a shaky breath. “Scarlet,” I whisper, “what are you doing?”
*
Boisterous laughter, clinking of glass bottles, and friendly smiles surround me at the pub down from the pier. I should have checked out the Friday-night scene on Tybee way before now.
“What can I get ya, hun?” the older lady with leathered skin asks as she slides a white cocktail napkin in front of me.
“Wine.”
She laughs. “What kind?”
I shrug. “Doesn’t matter, just something red.”
“You got it.”
I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in months. Tonight, I’ll have a few sips to ease the disappointment of my stolen dinner. Okay, I gave it away, but I had no other choice. We hadn’t talked in seven weeks. Theo had absolutely no reason to think he’d come home to a candlelit dinner with the woman who he unequivocally despises for reasons I have yet to understand.
“This seat taken?” Glassy hazel eyes look at me.
A handsome bloke with messy brown hair, who is clearly a little over-served, wants to sit by me. A hundred red flags pop up in my head. It’s a really bad idea.
“No. Have a seat.”
My name is Scarlet Stone. I was offered useful traits the day I entered this world. I passed on common sense, opting for the-edge-of-a-knife journey. When I die, I want my gravestone to have the word ‘epic’ on it somewhere.
Epic thief.
Epic daughter.
Epic adventurer.
Epic risk-taker.
Somehow I don’t think the word epic can be placed before the words beach dweller or meditator.
“Your accent…” he grins and signals to the bartender “…it’s British.”
I smile when she puts my wine down. “It is.” The red liquid burns my tongue a bit before it slides down my throat, dry and spicy. I used to like wine. Now I fear Yimin’s juice and pungent teas have ruined that for me. It should be a good thing, but right now I need a buzz.
“I’m Rowan.”
“Mmm …” I rub my lips together. The alcohol immediately enters my bloodstream since I missed dinner. “I like that name. I’m Scarlet.”
Rowan takes a swig of his beer. Sure, he’s drunk and soon, I will be too. But I haven’t seen muscles fill out a shirt so perfectly since the day I met Theodore Reed, and everything about the place my mind goes right now seems really wrong. That’s what makes turning toward him so my leg rests against his seem so right. I’m due for an epic mistake.