Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Shit.
“I’m just—” The sound of my phone cuts me off, and I let out a heavy sigh before pulling it out, expecting to see another call from the Inn, wanting to make sure I’m still breathing, but instead, I find Oxley’s name flashing across the screen. “Sorry, Bess. I’ve gotta take this.”
I put a twenty dollar bill on the counter, despite it being far too much for the handful of things I’ve purchased, and after scooping up my bag, I press my phone to my ear. “Everything good?” I ask, giving Bessy a polite nod and silently excusing myself from her store.
“I should be asking you that,” Oxley grumbles. “I just had a call from Jamie at the Inn thinking you were dead in a ditch somewhere. She said you never showed up this morning, and considering you sound perfectly fine, I can only assume you’re being a fucking stalker. Leave the girl alone, Nick.”
Fuck. Why is everyone assuming I’m stalking Blair, apart from the fact that’s exactly what I’ve been doing, but do they really need to think so low of me?
“I’m not stalking anybody,” I mutter. “Just had to stop and grab something from the store. I’m on my way to the Inn now.”
“Mm-hmm. Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he says, clearly not buying my bullshit, but it’s not as though I completely lied. Just partially. “You know, I was checkin’ up on her this morning and drove past her place. She must have gotten up real fucking early to plow all that snow off her driveway.”
“Wouldn’t know,” I mutter, knowing damn well he can see through that as well.
“Just get your ass to work,” Oxley says. “Talk to the girl or don’t. It doesn’t mean shit to me. But quit stalking her through town. It won’t take long before people start noticing, and I hate to break it to you, man, but you stand out like dogs’ balls. There’s not a damn inconspicuous thing about you.”
Rolling my eyes, I march across the road to where I’ve parked my truck by the side of the dog park, doing everything in my power not to turn my gaze toward the coffee shop. “I’m hanging up,” I warn him.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he throws back at me. “Just don’t come sulking to me when you get slapped with a restraining order.”
The line goes dead, and I shove my phone back into my pocket as I reach my truck, opening the back door and dumping the small bag of snacks onto the seat. Then because I’m a sucker for punishment, my gaze drifts down the road toward the coffee shop, only to find a pair of wide blue eyes staring back at me.
7
BLAIR
Ahhhhhhhhhh fuck.
My eyes widen like two primed and prepped assholes right before world domination.
Nick stands across the street, his gaze locked firmly on mine as he opens the door of his old red pickup, the same truck we lost ourselves in a million times over. And damn it, he looks fucking phenomenal.
Panic soars through my veins, quickly taking hold of all common sense, and before I have a chance to find any semblance of control, I throw myself forward, swan diving over the counter of Blushing’s best coffee house and crumbling to the dirty floor.
“Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the barista demands, gaping at me as though I’ve lost my mind. And yeah, considering I’m crouched at his feet with my whipped-cream-topped caramel latte now splattered across the back wall of the store, I think that could be a high possibility.
“Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.” My tone hitches up an octave, but I can’t seem to stop.
“DUUUUUUDE!” the barista reprimands, shoving his booted foot out to catch me in the ribs, and while it’s barely a graze, I’ll definitely suggest he broke a rib when I tell the story to Rena later.
My eyes flick up, meeting his irritated gaze. “I, uhhhhh . . . shit. I’m sorry. But is the drop-dead gorgeous hunk of a man who looks like he could snap a woman in half with nothing more than his pinky finger still staring this way?”
“What?”
“Just look,” I beg, two seconds away from bursting into an uncontrollable flood of tears. Because talking through wild emotions like an adult is apparently beyond me today. I’ll skip all the acceptable reactions and hightail it straight to heaving sobs.
“If I tell you, will you get off the fucking floor?”
“I don’t think you want my honest answer,” I tell him as a clump of whipped cream falls from the wall and splatters on the ground right in front of my feet. “I might be here for a while. We might as well get acquainted. Who knows? It could be fun.”
The barista mutters something under his breath before reluctantly leaning forward over the counter to get the best view of the street. “Are you talking about the tall guy with the red pickup who’s looking over here and shaking his head like he’s never been so disappointed in his life?”