Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
The strange sound from the second floor halts a few of us from laughing at the joke Paul is telling.
“Hear what?” I feign ignorance, eyes darting to the ceiling. At the slightly swaying light fixture dangling precariously above the center of the table.
“That.” We listen. “There it goes again.”
Goddamn Duke.
Can’t he sit at his desk like a normal person? Or turn the television on and watch a movie? My friends are almost done for the evening if he’d wait a few more minutes to be bored and obnoxious.
“Will you excuse me?” I set down my napkin, eyes on the swaying light fixture as I push my chair out and stand. “One second.”
Paul, who’s had a few too much to drink, half rises from his chair. “Want me to go check it out?”
“No, no—you sit. I have, um, raccoons in my attic. I’m sure it’s nothing.” I hesitate, realizing that was a dumb thing to say.
Raccoons in the attic making the lights sway? I’m such shit at lying…
“I meant—we’ve been known to have critters. No big deal, I’m just going to double-check. It’s not…” Stop talking, Posey. “Ghosts or anything.”
“Ghosts?!” Kate gasps. “Is this place haunted?”
“No! No. It’s squirrels. Or…rats.”
“Rats!?”
Shit, I’m making it worse.
Thump.
Thump.
I’m going to kill Duke Colter. “Be right back.”
Conscious of the fact that eight eyes are watching me, I try not to bound up the stairs, two at a time. Instead, I steady my pace and glance over my shoulder with a wide, happy grin.
See? No worries, it says to my drunk-ish friends.
But once I’m at the top of the steps?
I’m stalking like a woman on a mission the few steps to his bedroom, throwing open his door without a care to what he may be doing on the other side.
“What are you doing?” I whisper-hiss, standing in disbelief at the sight before me.
Watch as the overgrown child does pull-up exercises on his closet, a metal bracket braced atop the wood trim for support.
“One hundred and eighty…” He smirks, lifting himself to the chin.
Down.
Up.
“One hundred and eighty-one…”
He’s such a liar.
“You are unbelievable!” I hiss.
“Thanks,” he says at full volume, a little winded from the exercise.
Up.
Down.
“That wasn’t a compliment,” I hiss again. “And could you lower your voice?”
He cocks an eyebrow at me despite the fact that he’s moving up and down with zero effort at all.
“And put on a shirt!”
Duke laughs, letting himself drop to the ground with a thump, the weight from his body causing my dining room to shake.
“Did you come all this way to tell me to put a shirt on?” He wipes his brow at the same time his hand reaches for an olive on his food plate.
I can’t help but notice it’s half empty and almost as pretty as the one I’d thrown together myself.
Huh. Interesting…
“No. I came up here to tell you to quiet down. You’re making so much noise that Paul—who is drunk, by the way—keeps staring at the ceiling like a poltergeist is going to come floating down out of the vent.”
He pops another olive and chews. Swallows. “I’m making so much noise?”
I count to five to simmer myself down. “Yes. You’re thumping very loudly.”
“Thumpin’ loudly?” He chews some more. “Well, don’t that beat all.”
My head cocks to the side.
He’s totally screwing with me.
“How am I supposed to explain why it’s so freaking loud up here?”
“How am I supposed to keep myself occupied when everyone else is down there and gets to eat cheese?” His dumb shoulders shrug as he digs into the pickles.
“Can’t you just keep quiet?”
“Don’t know. Wasn’t tryin’ to be loud, to begin with.”
“Also.” I point at the silver bracket he’s using for pull-ups. “Where did you get that thing?”
“Found it in the garage.”
He still has no shirt on, he’s still gnawing on his plate, still standing there with a sweaty chest and glistening biceps.
Twenty-four years old…
Damn.
“I’m gonna take a shower. That is, if you don’t mind, Warden.”
I groan. “Don’t call me Warden. I’m not keeping you a prisoner.” I check my watch. “When I go downstairs, I’ll call it a night, and you can come out.”
“Gee, thanks.”
It’s difficult not to look at his body, or stare, or gawk—I’ve never seen a man this in shape in all my adult life—and trust me, I’ve seen plenty of dudes with no shirts on. None that I’ve dated; they weren’t into going to the gym and working out, and certainly were nowhere near professional athlete status.
So this…
Body…
I swallow.
“Okay, well.” From the door, I give a pitiful wave. “Few more minutes, kay?”
“Kay.” Duke bobs his head. “I’m fixin’ to climb out that window soon, so don’t keep me waitin’.” He pops a grape, grinning as he chews.
Fixin’.
Waitin’.
That accent.
Those abs…
My hand is on the doorknob. “You wouldn’t dare climb out the window.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
“There’s no ladder!” I hiss.
Duke couldn't care less. “I love a challenge.”