Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“I like it,” he said without inflection after he had himself belted in.
“What is it? Maybe I’ll add this one to my Christmas wish list or something.”
“Audi R8, and you should stick to your VW. You’d be a menace on the road in one of these.” He eased the car onto the road, and she gasped at the slur.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked indignantly.
“I’ve seen you drive. I’ve had the bad luck to be stuck behind you on occasion. You never use your turn signals and God, woman, you’re a road hog. You tailgate, speed, weave in and out of lanes like you’re doing some kind of crazy dance. And that’s just in an ancient, shitty little hatchback. Can’t imagine you in one of these.”
It was the most she’d ever heard him speak at one time, and every word was an insult. What an asshole.
She’d be a lot more pissed off by his words if they weren’t also true—she had a few (dozen) traffic violations to her name to corroborate what he was saying. Both of her sisters would rather walk than get into a car with her behind the wheel.
“I’m an awesome dri—” she started to say, but a rude sound from him, this one unmistakably scathing, shut her up.
“You don’t even believe that,” he said, and she glared at him before crossing her arms over her chest and diverting her attention out of the window. She sat up a moment later, her mien alert as she watched the scenery slide by.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Dinner.”
“We’re heading in the wrong direction,” she stated. “Town’s the other way.”
“We’re not having dinner in town.”
“But . . .” Panic flared in her chest. This wasn’t the plan. She wasn’t comfortable with the thought of seeing him outside the usual familiar settings.
“I’m bored with MJ’s and Ralphie’s.” He shrugged and she chewed on her bottom lip, wondering if she should insist they head back to town. It seemed like an unreasonable response to a casual dinner, and she bit back the words.
“So Knysna?” It wasn’t a long drive, twenty minutes to half an hour at most. Maybe faster when the roads were this empty.
“Yeah, I read about this great place.”
“I see.” She nervously folded and unfolded her hands in her lap, a habit she had developed in an attempt to stop chewing her nails but that had just devolved into a different nervous tic. Still, it was preferable to ruining a perfectly good manicure.
She continued to fidget until he reached over and engulfed both of her hands with his free one. He gave them a brief squeeze before lifting his hand back to the steering wheel. The gesture made her breath catch, as did the lingering warmth of his touch, and she found herself striving to appear casual after the fleeting contact.
“Relax,” he growled. “I’m not driving you to some remote location to murder you or anything.”
“Wow. That thought hadn’t occurred to me . . . till now.” Her voice was tart and—despite the dimly lit interior of the car—she could see his lips tilt just enough to reveal one of those masculine dimples to her. It took everything in her not to reach up and trace her thumb over the indentation in his stubbled cheek.
“So what kind of place is this? Am I overdressed?” Considering the rough and ready guy he was, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he’d simply take her to a pub much like Ralphie’s.
“You look perfect.” His gravelly voice sounded intense, and Daff felt her face heat at his words.
“Thank you. You look quite nice, too.” And he did. He was dressed in a pair of faded jeans that fit him perfectly; her eyes drifted over thickly muscled thighs and the snug pull of fabric over his crotch before she hastily diverted her attention upward. The view was no less unsettling—a pale-blue dress shirt, slightly damp in spots from where it had caught the rain, lovingly draping and dipping over his broad chest. The top two buttons were undone, leaving her with a tantalizing glimpse of smooth, tanned skin. She couldn’t see much because of the dim car interior, but it put her imagination into overdrive and made her breath quicken.
God, Spencer Carlisle was seriously good-looking. Not conventionally handsome, but so damned sexy it made her skin feel tight and uncomfortable. Like she had an itch that was just out of reach.
He had slipped into one of those contemplative silences he seemed to enjoy so much, and not feeling the need to break the silence, Daff fumbled for her phone and pretended to check her messages and Facebook. He left her to it and only when she saw the lights of Knysna rapidly approaching about ten minutes later did she put her phone away again.