Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
I went into my office, set my laptop bag alongside my desk, and enjoyed another drink.
There was a knock at the door.
I told myself I was imagining it. I’d wanted Kyle so much, I’d obviously planted the idea in my head, but I left my office, going to the front door and opening it.
No one.
Yes, just in my head.
An unsettling feeling stirred within me as I thought of Sheila accusing me of imagining things. I hadn’t imagined anything. All those things I’d accused her of had been true, but it didn’t change the fact that I still felt as if reality was slipping away from me, that odd mix of being totally destabilized and full of fury, at Sheila, at myself.
As I closed the door, contemplating the sound I believed I’d heard, I grew agitated that I hadn’t gotten my wish.
Then the knock came again. It hadn’t been coming from the front door.
“The fuck?” I muttered.
I thought maybe I was mistaking a squirrel or raccoon for a knock, but it sounded so deliberate.
Heading into the kitchen, I saw him through the French door, drenched from the rain—Kyle Forsythe. His face had that familiar scowl I’d seen far too many times during class, the one that made me feel like he didn’t give a shit and that he was mentally undressing me all at once.
Was it so evil of me that I was glad he was here?
But how the hell did he know where I lived?
He lifted his hand, offering a friendly wave and the faintest of smiles that set me at ease right away. I dashed to the door, noticing I’d left it unlocked. I cracked it open. “What are you doing here?”
“Do you mind if I come in first? I’m getting a little wet.”
Don’t fucking let him in, a part of my brain warned me.
I knew once I did that, it was over for me, but with him standing there as though he’d fallen into a swimming pool, it was impossible for me to deny him.
“Guess it’s my turn to help you out of the rain,” I joked. “Come on in.”
I hated myself for saying it, particularly because I wanted him inside my house.
All to myself.
“Your shoes,” I told him, noticing they were covered in mud.
“Yeah…there’s a park behind your house. I left the car there and came through the woods.”
“You walked from there?”
“I didn’t think it’d be great if your neighbors saw me pulling into your driveway. You’re welcome.”
He had a point, but it didn’t make me feel better about him trudging through the rain and mud.
As I closed the door behind him, he said, “Don’t act so happy to see me.”
I avoided looking him directly in the eyes, mostly because I figured I knew why he was here…what he’d seen…what he now knew.
I was still wondering how the hell this could be happening. He didn’t know where I lived. No, I had to be dreaming this. I had to get away and think for a second. Fortunately, I had an easy way out. “I’ll grab you a towel.”
I went into the laundry room and fetched a towel from the dryer. As I turned, he was coming in. His damp long-sleeved shirt clung to his body, curving with every muscle, making it nearly effortless to imagine what he looked like under it. He ran his fingers through the damp locks of hair that clung to his forehead, pushing them over his brow.
“On second thought,” I said as I continued looking him over, “while we’re in here, let’s get some dry clothes.”
“Am I making it difficult for you to think right now?” he asked with a sly wink.
“Kyle, how did you know where I lived?”
His brows tugged closer together. “Really? I programmed my uncle’s address into your GPS, meaning…”
“You saw mine.”
He tapped his forefinger against his head. “Delivery guy. I’m a pro with Wyachet addresses.”
It was a relief to know it wasn’t anything creepy, yet I wondered if I would have been so upset if it had been.
“Always full of surprises,” I noted.
“You like it when I surprise you.”
Of course I fucking did.
I grabbed some clothes from the dryer and handed them to him before walking back into the kitchen, closing the door behind me, accepting that now I really was going to have to deal with the consequences of what I’d entrusted to him back at the bookstore.
Moisture collected on my forehead. I knew it wasn’t from the rain outside. I was sweating as I considered the consequences of someone finding out that Kyle was in my home—and why he was in my home. The fact that he had to leave his car at the park behind my home served as a reminder that we both knew there were consequences for our actions. I went into my office—yes, that was the most appropriate place to talk to him once he’d dried off.