Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Every interaction I had with a man was a power play at best, life or death at worst.
The simplicity of his flirting had my spine stiffening, waiting for the catch.
His posture remained casual, expression light. “I have my moments.”
Cheeky. Playful. Attractive. Warm. He was the human version of a cinnamon bun. I, on the other hand, was the human version of that blowfish that would kill you if it was prepared incorrectly.
Better known as fugu.
I’d eaten it many times.
Cinnamon rolls, on the other hand… No. Carbs. Processed sugars. I avoided those militantly.
If I didn’t indulge in actual cinnamon buns made by my sister-in-law—the best in the country according to everyone who had eaten them—then I certainly wouldn’t be tasting the male equivalent, even if my mouth was watering just a little.
“I’m not here to make your day, or your life, by letting you think you can land me… Pun intended,” I said, my voice sharp and biting. “I’m here to ruin it. Your day.” I handed him the envelope in my hand.
He looked at it without the sufficient fear I wanted him to be feeling. For a moment, I forgot that I wasn’t in New York, and small-town fishermen didn’t know that an envelope—especially one I handed over—had the power to ruin lives, companies, GDPs.
His eyes continued to twinkle. “I’m not getting sued, then, pray tell, why hand me a thick and ominous envelope?”
I gritted my teeth. He was amused by my envelope. “Why not open it and find out yourself? I assume you can read. The words aren’t too big, I promise.”
Again, my tone was ice cold, my words condescending, yet no glower darkened this man’s cheerful face. Actually, he just smiled bigger. His teeth were white—not perfectly straight, though the crookedness of his incisor furthered his small-town hottie vibe. Veneers on men looked like they had a mouth full of Chiclets.
“I can read. Big words and all.” He scratched his neck. “But I’d rather you tell me. Grant me the boon of your company a little longer.”
A boon? Were we in The fucking Notebook?
Terrible movie.
Okay, not terrible.
Passable.
If you were into that kind of thing. Lifetime love that transcended every obstacle in its path. And Ryan Gosling's abs.
I was into Ryan Gosling's abs, but that was about it.
I preferred Lord of the Rings—real fantasies since I was more apt to believe in elves and wizards than I was in lifetime love. Aragorn and Arwen notwithstanding. And I was well aware that Aragorn, son of Arathorn, was truly fictional, since no man with that much power in the real world would be as honorable as him. Not even this seemingly nice guy fisherman. Give a man enough money or power, and he’d seek to conquer what he could and destroy what he couldn’t.
I should’ve turned and walked my ass away from this man and his dangerously warm energy. Instead, I stayed, if only to bask in the light of a man I’d never ever end up with.
Whereas some people toyed with darkness, I flirted with sunlight, knowing I’d never be able to live in it.
“You owe me money.” I forced myself not to growl, still gripping the envelope.
“I owe you money?” He raised his brow in playful surprise. “I’d definitely remember accruing that debt.”
My mouth went dry, and my body tightened with arousal. Smiling slowly, sensually, I stepped forward on the dock, knowing that it was a dangerous move in heels. I leaned over so I could put my forearms on the smooth hull—?—of the boat, inches from his face. I smelled the ocean and a musk that was so deep and unique, it could’ve only had to belong to him, the bitterness of his coffee accenting it all perfectly.
“You’d remember every second of my presence, trust me,” I informed him in a sultry voice. “This is for services rendered, which I don’t charge for, and if I did, you most certainly wouldn’t be able to afford me.”
The insult slid off my tongue like honey, and I waited for him to realize that I’d said it, changing his smile to a sneer.
But it didn’t happen. That casual, playful smile tinged with masculine arousal, remained on his face.
“You have teeth. I like it.” He leaned forward, unafraid of the intimate distance between us.
Seeing that I didn’t bring out the worst in him, the way he smelled, the way he hinted like he could handle me… It had me on unsteady footing.
But I was used to that. I recovered quickly.
“And claws.” I tapped the side of the boat with my nails. “But I need my money. Or more accurately, my brother and Kip need your money. I’ve given you an additional thirty days on your invoice. Consider that the last courtesy you’ll be getting from me.”
I pressed the envelope to his chest, not missing the brush of our fingers as he reached up to clasp it.