Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“No, I’m not drunk. I’ve hardly had a drop.”
“Well, you’re acting drunk.”
“I’m not drunk. I’m pissed. And hurt. Deeply hurt.”
“Why the fuck are you ‘deeply hurt’? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I’m moving, but I’m not gonna apologize for saying I’m having fun with you—because I am.”
“I was gonna bring you home to meet my family, Josh,” she says, her eyes watering and her voice cracking. “I obviously can’t do that if all we’re doing is having fun.”
“What the fuck? You’re not gonna let me come meet your family now? You’re uninviting me from the birthday party?” Now I’m pissed. That goddamned party is the whole reason I flew the fuck up to Seattle in the first place.
She’s in full terrorist mode. “I’ve brought a grand total of three guys home to meet my family, Josh. Three. And the last one didn’t work out so well. Colby sniffed Garrett out like a St. Bernard tracking a lost skier. Colby knew Garrett was with me for nothing but fun while I was in it for a whole lot more. I’m not gonna subject myself to that ever again.”
I’m speechless. She’s comparing me to Garrett Bennett? She thinks I’m using her? Could she possibly believe that, after everything we’ve been through together? After everything I’ve said and done to make my feelings clear?
“That was such a low blow,” I say between gritted teeth.
“Why is that a low blow? You can’t imagine dating me eight measly weeks from now,” she seethes. “Fifty-two days. My family would know you’re not in it for the long-haul—especially Colby—and they’d eat you for breakfast.”
“Shit, Kat. Motherfucker. I fucked up, okay?” My voice cracks. I press my lips together, regaining my composure. I wait. My eyes are stinging. I take a deep breath and push everything down. “I should have told you, okay? I’m sorry. But you’re reading way too much into this. I’m not Garrett-Bennetting you. You can’t seriously believe that.”
She shrugs.
“What did that fucker say to you, again?”
“He said I’m fun.”
“No, the other thing.”
“He basically called me a slut.”
“But what were his exact words?”
She shifts her weight. “He said I’m not ‘marriage material.’”
I close my eyes and shake my head. I’m an idiot. This is Kat’s Achilles’ heel—her Kryptonite—and I’ve served it up to her on a silver platter.
“Listen to me, babe.” I grab her shoulders and look into her eyes. “I never said I don’t wanna be with you eight weeks from now. All I said was I can’t make promises about the future. But that’s only because nothing’s for sure in life—it has nothing to do with you, personally. That’s a factual statement. Anything can happen. But right now do I want to be with you? Yes. So bad it hurts—that’s why I came to Seattle early.”
Yet another battery of tears springs into her beautiful blue eyes.
“Kat, please, trust me. I’m crazy about you. It’s just that, except when it comes to business, I take things a day at a time. It’s all I can handle—” I have to stop. If I say anymore, I’m gonna lose it. My eyes are burning.
“I don’t wanna be some kind of glorified booty call,” she says softly.
“What? Did you hear a word I said? I think maybe you’re clinically insane. Or maybe you’re PMSing or something because that’s the furthest thing—”
She makes a sound that can only be described as prehistoric, making me stop dead in my tracks.
“I’m not PMSing! I’m crying because you hurt my frickin’ feelings—not because I have ovaries. You’re the one who can’t imagine dating me fifty-two freakin’ days from now, so don’t try to worm out of your assholery by playing the PMS card!”
Her nostrils are flaring. Her eyes are wild. She looks like a fucking dragon.
“Oh my fucking God,” I say. “You’re overreacting. Again.”
“No, I’m not overreacting. You didn’t tell the girl you’re supposedly ‘addicted to’ you’re moving to her frickin’ city in eight weeks! How’d you expect me to find out? By bumping into you at Whole Foods?”
I look up to the sky, biting my lip. She’s pissing me off. I should have told her, yes, but she’s making mountains out of molehills. “Yes, Kat. You guessed it,” I say. “I was gonna wait to tell you until after we’d bumped into each other at Whole Foods.”
She abruptly turns around and marches away from me. “I’m going home,” she says.
I roll my eyes at her backside. Her purse and phone are inside the bar and I’m the one who drove her here. How the fuck does she plan to go home? Déjà fucking vu. We might as well be in another hotel hallway right now. For a split second, the image of her dripping wet ass cheeks stomping down the hallway after Reed’s party flashes across my mind and I smile. She’s a handful, this one—never a dull moment.