Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“How was your trip?” I ask, washing my hands.
“Boring.” She tugs at the neck of her white hoodie.
“How’s your inheritance looking?”
Maren laughs. “Not you too.”
“Just kidding.”
She plucks a mushroom off the pizza and pops it in her mouth. “How was your day?”
“Never boring.” I lean my hip against the counter and take a bite of pizza. It’s still hot and so good.
“How have things been around here? Have you seen the boys much?”
I laugh at her reference. “I don’t see Will that often, but I see Fitz in the evenings when he’s in town. He’s . . .”
“Fitz?”
I nod. “He’s so intense.”
“Mmm . . .” She sets her slice onto the box lid and takes a swig of her Razz-Cranberry LaCroix. “That’s just him. He likes his space. Spends a lot of time alone. He’s a voracious reader. Antisocial. Laser focused on things that are important to him. Controlling. And yes, intense.”
“His job. That’s what’s important to him. He’s a total Capricorn.” I take another bite of pizza and chew it slowly. “I respect that.”
Maren fists her hand at her mouth for a few seconds and swallows. “Yes, well, I don’t know much about zodiac signs. But he loves his job.”
“And he’s never been married?”
“Fitz?” She coughs a laugh. “No. That would require him to pursue a woman beyond”—Maren’s lips twist while she contemplatively gazes at the ceiling—“the bedroom. He can get women to sleep with him. I mean, look at him.” Maren grins. “But he either has no desire for anything beyond that, or he’s emotionally dead, because I’ve never met a single woman in his life. I suspect he’s not a virgin since he sometimes doesn’t come home at night. But who knows? Maybe he is.” She tosses the last bite of crust into her mouth.
“He’s never brought anyone here for the night?”
She shakes her head, bending the tab of her LaCroix can. “Have you seen Lars and the Real Girl with Ryan Gosling?”
“No.” I tear off a paper towel to wipe my hands.
“Well, he plays a character in love with a life-size doll named Bianca. Will’s waiting to meet Fitz’s Bianca doll.”
I snort into my napkin. “Stop . . .” I shake my head. “Poor Fitz. I think you and Will are awfully hard on him.”
“No. No. No. There is no ‘poor Fitz.’ In case you haven’t figured it out yet, he can give it just as good as he can take it.”
“Oh, I’m aware. We’re currently in the middle of something he started over a month ago. I’m waiting for the perfect moment to get revenge, but if I’m being honest, I feel like the revenge is the torture he’s experiencing waiting for me to get my payback.”
Maren holds up a finger. “Watch your back. Fitz is ruthless.”
I hum while sipping my water. “I might be more ruthless. Actually, he can be charming.”
Sexy. Downright irresistible.
Maren inspects me through narrowed eyes like I’m speaking a different language.
The front door creaks open.
“Speaking of,” she whispers.
I peer over my shoulder at Fitz. He eyes me and then Maren. “Talking about me?”
“Well, I’m going to shower. Thanks for the pizza, Jamie.” Maren saunters past Calvin and playfully nudges him.
He squints at her, but he also relinquishes a tiny grin. When his attention shifts to me on his way to the kitchen, I scramble. After tossing my napkin in the trash and emptying my water glass, I nod to the pizza box. “There’s two slices left, if you want them.”
He lifts the lid and inspects them before eyeing me. “What did you do to them?” He sets the empty cookie container on the counter.
“Do to them?”
“Yes. What did you do to them?” He steps past me, snatching a kombucha from the fridge. “Poison? Pubes?”
“Pubes?” I suppress my laughter. “I’ve spent my life in a bikini, Fitz. I don’t have pubes to spare for your pizza.”
Fitz turns, removing the lid. He doesn’t make the slightest effort to hide where his eyes are pointed or the wolfish grin taking up residency on his face.
“I feel thoroughly violated.” I find a toothy grin.
In its own sweet time, his gaze crawls up my body.
Fuck him. Really. Could he be more obvious? Is this payback for my visit to his work?
Is this a test?
He’s toying with me, causing me to overheat just to make me blush so he can reveal his victorious smirk. I reject his smirk—no victory for him.
“Were you abandoned?” I blurt out before he can focus on my red cheeks.
“Excuse me?” His brow knits tightly.
“I heard you’re dating a blow-up doll. That screams abandonment. Are your parents still alive? Did you get dumped by your one true love? Did your family dog get hit by a car?”
There’s a pregnant pause.
No words.
Not even a blink.
It’s just me and Fitz’s unreadable expression.
Finally, he blows out a slow breath and stares at his feet. “She’s not inflatable. Her name is Mrs. Wilke, after my parents’ old neighbor who touched me inappropriately the summer I turned fourteen. She invited me over to discuss payment for mowing her yard. She told me to sit on the sofa while she fetched her purse. When she returned, she asked me if I liked her dress. I shrugged. Then she said it was made of the softest cotton her skin had ever felt. And she asked me if I wanted to feel it.