Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Tapping the top corner card, he says, “This one.” I lift it to face him. His grin is wide as the Hamburglar’s after snatching another burger. “Who says I have memory issues?”
“Apparently all the doctors, but what do they know?” I joke with a playful shrug. “Anyway, I’m calling it as I see it. That was a lucky guess.” I give him a little insider’s wink. “Go again, please.”
“Want to wager on how lucky I am?”
Shock steals the joy that I was just getting comfortable with. “You want to bet on a game of Memory?”
A lopsided grin also pushes up his brow on one side. “What do you have to lose?”
“Depends on what’s on the line.”
He shrugs with an air of confidence, flexing his hard—so hard—earned muscles. He’d be less distracting with a shirt, but it’s his mirthful grin that I’ll remember when I think about this later. How does he manage to look like that and be so charming? He’s going to be the death of me, damn him. “C’mon, Autumn, why not make it interesting?”
Redirecting my gaze, I straighten two of the cards. “It’s pretty interesting on its own.”
“I bet you hate to lose.”
I scoff. “Who loves to lose?” When he doesn’t snap back with a reply, I look up at him again. “What?”
“I’m not the best loser, but I’m not sore over it.”
“I’m not sore either. I’m not even playing a game right now, and I haven’t agreed to a wager.” Pointing at him, I narrow my gaze, though restraining my smile is a whole other challenge. “Do you really think that reverse psychology will work on me?” I laugh, sounding more like Dr. Evil than myself. Guess he brings out my villainous side. “You’re messing with a pro, buddy.”
His shoulders rattle when he chuckles with a pain-free expression. He’s making progress both physically and mentally, and doesn’t even realize it.
“Fine.” Another laugh escapes him before quieting with concentration on the task at hand. “We won’t bet.” He turns a card over, revealing a tiger. “Hey, Autumn?” I look up again, meeting the warmth of his eyes with the dashing little crinkles at the corners. “I’m having a good time with you.”
Forty-eight hours ago, I didn’t think he was capable of sweetness. I considered him an irredeemable jerk. But now, my chest blooms with warmth, and I blush when he stares into my eyes for longer than a second. Even his smile feels secretive, like it was made just for me, and he talks like this job will never end. Like this is how it will always be between us.
Bricks of my foundation were cemented by my hatred of him. For years, they stood the test of time, but in less than two days, they’re crumbling faster than I can repair the damage. Good thing I don’t want to. I really do like this cute side of him. “You are?”
“Yeah. It should be dorky, but you make it interesting.”
I’ve been trying so hard to keep things professional, but today has completely detoured me from my original route. Now I’m off in la la land like we’re friends and having fun. “I’m having a good time, too.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am.” Tapping the table between us, I say, “Find your tiger.”
“I think I already have.” I glance up to find a roguish grin that melts the rest of my cold heart toward him.
It’s not the words that make me feel special. It’s the look that makes me think he’s sharing a secret with me. Being near him is a roller coaster of emotions, from the peak of thrills to the drop into the valley of trust issues I have after being burned. My guard is barely hanging on because Brandon has me second-guessing whether I even need the protection, making this situation much less predictable. What am I supposed to think when he’s being so nice?
When he takes a drink of his iced tea, his eyes stay on me. Setting the glass on the coaster, he runs a finger down the condensation, forcing the water to pool at the base. “Were we ever friends, Autumn?”
My immediate reaction is to be polite and tell him we were, but reassuring him with a lie isn’t right. So I stick to the shores of truth instead. “We were friends when we were younger. Do you remember where the tiger is hiding?”
He taps a card lying dead center. I flip it over and smile, impressed by his skills. Glancing up at him, I catch him looking away as if he’d been caught. “You’re very good at this game.”
“According to the game, my memory is just fine.”
“It was more for the concussion, but yes, your memory is very good when it wants to be and not so good when it comes to me.”
He chuckles, staring at me like I’m a riddle he can’t figure out. “Trust me, I desperately want to remember you.”