Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
I also really hated computer shopping.
Contrary to what the idiots in those computer stores thought, I was capable of choosing my own computer. I just needed it to run Word.
And The Sims.
I paused.
And just that like, my finger slid over to the game client, and I opened The Sims instead of my word processor.
Just a public service announcement: playing The Sims did not get one’s book written.
It was an excellent source of stress relief though, and I was stressed, so I was going to do what all good Sims players did.
I was going to make a sim version of Max and trap him in the pool until the Grim Reaper paid a visit.
Slightly sadistic? Maybe. But it was just a game, and really nothing compared to some of the shit I’d Googled in the past.
Trust me on that.
I was probably on a watch list somewhere.
I went into the create mode and got to work making a sim that resembled him. They even had his exact haircut, which brought me a little bit of joy. I fiddled and toyed with all the tools for the next forty-five minutes until I had a sim that was somewhat recognisable as the good duke.
Then I got to work.
I chose an empty lot and got building. I really didn’t need much, but I did want a backup plan if the pool didn’t work, so I made a two-by-two room, then another that was twice as large and just had a cheap cooker in.
The one that always set on fire.
Burn, bitch, burn.
All right.
More than slightly sadistic, but we all had a vice.
I was just about to instruct my sim of Max to get into the pool when there were four loud knocks at the door.
Sigh.
I paused the game and got up, leaving the laptop on the coffee table. Maybe I didn’t need to leave Windermere—maybe I just needed to find somewhere quieter to stay.
“Hello,” I said, opening the door. “I—oh, it’s you.”
Max’s lips twitched to one side. “It’s nice to see you, too.”
I went to close the door, but he shoved one foot between it and the frame and peered through the remaining gap.
“Ellie, please. Can we talk?”
“You can talk. I have nothing to say to you, and you can do that from the other side of the door, so if you’ll excuse your foot… I have work to be doing.” Or Sims to be killing. Whatever.
“I read your book.”
I froze, then slowly tilted my head to one side. “Did you break in here again?”
“I didn’t break in here. The door was open, and I read that one by accident,” Max replied, fighting back a smile.
“We’ll agree to disagree.”
“Of course.”
“What did you read? Why did you read it? Are you fucking with me right now?”
He bit back a laugh. “The Rules for Dating an Earl.”
“Oh, great. My debut.” I rolled my eyes. Of course it was that one. Why wouldn’t it be? “But why? Eighteen hours ago, you didn’t read fiction, and now Mr. Forever Bachelor is reading romantic bloody comedy?”
“Grandma suggested that I should read your book if I wanted to understand how you felt about your characters,” he said slowly. “That’s the one she gave me.”
“Why on Earth would you want to understand how I feel about my characters?”
He sighed, briefly dropping his gaze. “I didn’t mean to upset you yesterday.”
I swallowed.
“You made some excellent points when we returned here, and it made me think a lot. You were so passionate about it all that I wanted to understand why you felt that way.”
“Yes, but why? What difference does that make to your life?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, meeting my gaze. “But it was extremely clear that your books make a great deal of difference to other people’s lives, and I suppose I wanted to find that out for myself.”
I released my hold on the door and wrapped my arms around myself. A little fizzle of nerves tightened my stomach, like I frigging cared what this arsehole thought. Like I gave a damn.
Because I didn’t.
Not at all.
Not even a little bit.
Not the smallest, littlest, teensiest, tiniest smidge of a bit.
“And?” I asked after a few seconds of silence.
I did.
I cared.
Ugh.
Max slowly nodded. “I understand what you were saying last night about the journey being the one that mattered and not just the ending. I’m not entirely sure I’ll ever fully grasp it on the level you do, but I… get it.”
“Oh.” I wet my lips with my tongue and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “Well… I appreciate you trying to understand from my point of view. And, um, I might have overreacted a little bit.”
He pressed his lips together into a grim smile.
“And I’m sorry,” I offered, grimacing. “Especially for ruining dinner.”
He shrugged. “You didn’t really ruin it. We ate before we really argued.”