Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 92336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Everything happened so fast. I just stood there numb, clutching the towel around me as he doused the flames.
When the fire was fully out, Damien and I both stood there in silence looking at the charred remains of my beloved toaster oven. The damage was mostly contained to the oven itself, but the countertop looked like it might have been charred a bit, too.
I coughed from the smoke.
“What the fuck,” he muttered, still staring at the scene of the disaster.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for whatever damage was done to the counter. I—”
“How did this happen?”
“Frozen lasagna…it burned.”
“No. I mean…how did it happen?”
“I was reading a book in the bathtub and—”
“You were reading in the tub,” he interrupted, gritting his teeth. “You were READING in the tub while you were also cooking something that almost burned my goddamn building down?”
“No. You don’t understand. I—”
Damien started to charge toward the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
“I want to see what book is so important that it nearly cost you your life.”
Fuck.
No.
Fuck!
It was too late. He’d already picked up my Kindle off the floor. My heart was beating faster than it probably ever had.
After he took a look at the title and swiped through a few pages, he turned to me and laughed incredulously. “Nice. Real nice. The apartment was about to burn down while you were in here reading about two guys drilling a girl in every orifice,” he huffed before tossing the Kindle aside. He was half-smiling when he said, “You little perv.”
Mortified could not even begin to describe how I was feeling. I wanted to cry, but I was too frozen in shock to form tears.
“I fell asleep. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“What would’ve happened if I wasn’t home?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to even think about it.” The shock must have worn off a bit, because the first teardrop fell from my eyes.
Damien let out a deep breath when he noticed me crying. “Fuck. Don’t cry.”
“I’m really sorry about this.”
Damien left the bathroom and began going around and opening all of the windows. Still dressed in only a towel, I followed him around like an idiot.
“The apartment needs to air out. It’s not good to breathe this shit in,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Do you eat pizza?” he asked.
That was a random question. He was so unpredictable.
“Yes.”
“Get dressed then come next door. Give the smoke a chance to dissipate.”
Damien grabbed the extinguisher and left the apartment just as fast as he’d barreled through it.
Did he just invite me over for dinner after I almost burned his building down?
Coughing, I ran to my room and changed, choosing a tiny black sundress. I felt stupid for even attempting to get dolled up when Damien was just offering me shelter and food after my near-disaster. But for some reason, I wanted to look good.
Could this night have been any stranger?
***
My palms were sweaty as I stood outside his door.
Get it together, Chelsea.
Knocking lightly, I took a deep breath in.
The door opened sooner than I was ready for.
“Well, if it isn’t Firestarter,” he drawled. “Come on in.”
“Firestarter and The Omen…between the two of us, we make a couple of terrifying old movies. Did you invite me over here to mock me, by the way?”
Damien lifted his brow. “Did you expect anything less? Yet…you still came.”
He’d changed into a fitted gray sweater and dark jeans and smelled like he’d just sprayed on a fresh coating of cologne.
“You changed,” I stupidly said.
“Well, I smelled like a chimney. So, I kind of had to.”
“Right.”
He wasn’t wearing the beanie anymore, and for the first time, I noticed that his dark hair had a slight curl to it. He also had some sort of white powder on his cheek.
“What is that all over your face?”
Wiping his cheek, he said, “It’s flour.”
“I thought you were ordering pizza.” I looked over at his kitchen counter and saw some chopped up vegetables and jarred sauce. “Wait…you’re…making it?”
“Yeah. Homemade is better and healthier. I use whole grain dough and low fat cheese.”
“So, are you like a health nut or something? You do work out a lot. I know that much.”
“I try to take good care of myself, yes.”
“Me, too. I try. I don’t always succeed, but I try.”
“Right. Frozen lasagna and all.” He winked. “I’d say that was an epic fail all around.”
“I’d probably have to agree with you.”
We smiled at each other. I was relieved that he was making light of everything. When his eyes lingered on mine for a few moments, I felt flush. It actually became uncomfortable because I worried that my attraction to him was somehow transparent.
Needing to distract myself from his gaze, I looked around and said, “It’s so quiet here without the dogs.”
“I know. I don’t like it.” Damien walked to the other side of the counter and began pouring sauce over the rolled-out dough.