Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“No, you’re not.”
I didn’t want to resort to the nuclear option, but he’s given me no choice. “There’s someone else.”
“What the fuck? Who?” he snaps, anger reddening his face.
My cab pulls up to the curb. Thank God.
“You don’t get to know,” I say coolly. “And now I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.”
For the first time tonight, he listens.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
MACKENZIE
Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing at Cooper’s front door. I think I knew when I left the dinner table where I was going to end up. I knew—when I walked away from Cooper yesterday, when I spent hours spinning his words over in my head, remembering our hungry kisses—that if I found my way back here again, it would be with a purpose.
When he opens the door, I almost lose my nerve. He’s wearing a T-shirt and ripped jeans. Hair damp as if he just showered. His looks, his body, his tattoos are pure temptation. I hate that he doesn’t have to do anything, say anything, to get me all sideways and messed up. It isn’t fair.
“Hey.” I swallow against the sudden onset of dry mouth.
He stares me down hard without a word. I expected anger. Maybe to be chased off with a warning not to show my face in these parts again.
This is worse.
“Look, I came to apologize.”
“That right?” Cooper takes up the whole doorway, strong arms braced on either side.
“I was out of line,” I say remorsefully. “I never should have insinuated you have herpes. Perpetuating the stigma of STDs and slut-shaming is wrong, and I’m sorry.”
Though he tries his best to hide it, Cooper can’t entirely smother the smirk that pulls at the corner of his mouth. He drops his arms.
“Fine, come in.”
He leads me through the empty house to the lit back deck that looks out onto the bay. Neither of us is quite sure how to start, so we both lean against the railing, pretending to watch the waves through the darkness.
“I’ve never slapped anyone before,” I confess, because it’s my responsibility to break the ice, and for some reason this is harder than I expected.
“You’re pretty good at it,” he says dryly. “Fucking hurt.”
“If it makes you feel any better, my hand was still sore when I woke up today. You have a hard face.”
“It does make me feel better,” he says with a smile in his voice. “A little.”
“I am sorry. I way overreacted and totally lost it. I felt terrible about it. I still feel terrible.”
Cooper shrugs. “Don’t sweat it. I’ve had worse.”
Part of me wants him to lash out. Tell me I’m a brat and a spoiled bitch. But he’s so cool and calm. Unreadable, giving nothing away, which makes all of this nearly impossible. Because for everything I learn about Cooper, I don’t know him at all. Sometimes I think we have a connection, then I get to thinking about it until I convince myself I’ve concocted the entire thing in my head. As if every time we meet, I’m waking up from a dream and I don’t remember what’s real.
“Want to ask me where I was tonight?” I don’t know why I say it except that I want him to know and coming right out with it seems…presumptuous?
He cocks an eyebrow.
“Well, first off, I walked out on my parents.”
“Is the building still standing?” he asks, not even trying to hide his amusement.
“Uncertain. I sort of ran off in the middle of dinner.” I pause. “Know what else I did?”
“What’s that?”
“I broke up with my boyfriend.”
This gets his attention. He turns to put his back against the railing and folds his arms, attentive.
Cooper chuckles, shaking his head. “There, now it makes sense. You’re on the lam and you figured, where better to hide out? No chance anyone will come looking for you here. Am I right?”
“Something like that,” I answer sheepishly. That wasn’t the explicit thought in mind when I gave the cab driver Cooper’s address, but it was certainly an unconscious instinct.
“So how long do you plan on lying low? Not to be a dick about it, but I’m not running a hotel here, princess.”
“Touché.”
Silence engulfs us, louder than the crashing of the waves against the shore.
This morning, I woke up sweating. As I blinked against the sun, the final frames of Cooper holding me against the wall—my legs wrapped around his hips, his hands burning across my skin—evaporated with the morning dew on my windowsill. What do I do with that? These are new feelings for me. I’ve never been this wound up over a guy. And yeah, okay, he’s shown some interest too, but if he doesn’t make the next move, I don’t know what any of this means.
“Part of me wishes we never met,” he finally says, shadows playing across his face from the deck lights.
“Why’s that?” I mean, besides the obvious, I guess. I have been a major pain in the ass to him and probably way more trouble than it’s worth.