Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I hear Deuce, as I’ve now dubbed him, curse from the front seat as he pulls out of the parking lot. I think I heard people call him Carter but the number two is plastered across his back. Between that and the bag he pretty much threw on me, I think he’s a football player. I take in a deep breath trying to calm myself. I know I’m going to have more words with Deuce in the near future and I can’t let my fear show. Out of the corner of my eye I see a half-eaten Snickers bar in his bag and I lick my lips, thinking about the last time I ate. My stomach clenches with hunger. Clearly he isn’t going to eat it because who only eats half a candy bar? My eyes flick from him to the candy bar again, trying to decide if I should shove all of that yummy goodness in my mouth.
I think what the hell and decide that I’m going to eat it. What’s the worst that can happen? The man already said he’s dropping me off in the middle of nowhere. Which is not happening, just so we are clear. I take the candy bar out of the partly open bag and eat it in two quick bites. I think I let out a small moan when the first bite of the chocolatey caramel peanut combination hits my tongue. I close my eyes for a moment after I swallow the second piece, trying to savor it for as long as I can.
“Did you just eat my fucking candy bar?”
My eyes pop open and annoyance immediately takes up residence inside of me. He says it as though I’ve just killed someone inside of his fancy car. Maybe there is a no food rule in the car. I wouldn’t be surprised, as uptight as this guy is. He probably does everything neat and tidy. I’m not the one who brought the candy bar. It was in his bag. The car jerks, coming to a hard stop. I slam forward, my head hitting the seat in front of me. I try and fight a whimper, not wanting him to know I’m in pain.
Another round of curse words comes from Deuce before I’m being pulled from the car. I breathe a small sigh of relief when I see that we’re in a parking lot flooded with light. I let him finish guiding me out of the car because it looks safe here. At least we’re not in the middle of nowhere. My hand covers part of my face. I stare at his broad chest. I didn’t realize how tall he is. I focus on the number two that’s bold in my face.
“Let me see.”
I shake my head no. He reaches for my elbow to remove my hand himself and out of instinct I flinch back. His hand stops in midair and he doesn’t make another grab for me. “I could call the cops.”
“For eating your Snickers?”
“For breaking into my car.”
“It was unlocked,” I toss back. My head throbs more. Did I really hit it that hard or is it a mix of lack of sleep and hunger? Either way I’m starting to feel faint.
“Doesn’t mean you can just crawl in and make yourself at home.”
Home. The simple word rattles around in my head. Have I ever thought of anywhere as home? “Call the cops. At least they’ll feed me and give me somewhere to sleep for the night.” This time it’s him that flinches. I don’t care at this point; it’s the truth.
“Get in the car,” he demands.
“You’re an asshole. Maybe I don’t want to get back in your car so you can assault me again.” I let my hand drop away from my face.
“I didn’t assault you. I—" He stops speaking when his eyes lock with mine. We move to the front of his car. The headlights along with the parking lot lights make it easier to see each other. Of course he’s handsome. No wonder he’s a cocky asshole. “Get in the car,” he says again.
I shake my head no. He reaches up, running a hand through his hair, almost pulling at it. He looks more frustrated than when he found me in his car in the first place. He really is handsome. Even more so when he gets flustered. I’ll have to remember that.
“Please.” The one word comes out coarse. It’s as though he’s never had to say it before and it’s left a bad taste in his mouth. I can tell it took everything in him to utter that word.
“Fine. But I want Taco Bell.” I turn to stomp back to his car. I don’t know how he does it but he beats me to the passenger side door to open it for me. So he’s a cocky jerk who’s still a gentleman.