Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
I stood there, shaking as I seethed, while he pulled out the makings for a sandwich like he lived here.
“Since you’re not watching the television, I’m gonna claim the remote first. I don’t feel like sitting through some chick shit. It’s bad enough that I’m stuck here.”
My eyes widened, and I was sure I’d never been so livid in my life.
“You asshole!” I spat as the storm inside me burst out. “I’m not slow, I’m not blackmailing my father, and I don’t watch chick shit!”
He didn’t even flinch, although I had shouted so loudly that I was sure it could have been heard from outside. Possibly all the way to the little road out there.
While not responding, he opened a drawer and got out a butter knife.
Was he seriously going to ignore me now? I wasn’t staying in this cabin with him. I’d rather stay in here with…with…Satan than with this man.
“You’re in high school at nineteen,” he said with a quick glance in my direction before he went back to working on his sandwich. “You claim your father is Jericho Baskin and are threatening to out him to the media and his wife that you’re his bastard. And, well, I don’t know what the fuck you watch, so maybe you aren’t lying about that.”
Insulted wasn’t the right word. It was too weak. Lacked the depth of what I was experiencing. Never had I been spoken to like this in my life—and once guys in school had found out my mom was a stripper, I’d had some lewd things said to me.
I just stood there. Saying nothing. When the tears stung my eyes, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stop them, so I moved before he saw that he had affected me. I walked to the bedroom, keeping my head up and directed away from him until I was safely inside the room, behind the closed door. Pressing my lips together, I closed my eyes as a tear rolled down my face silently.
I missed my momma. I missed home. All the pain and hollowness that losing her had left behind began to unravel at once. I’d been fighting and struggling to get things handled since her death, and I’d not had time to truly grieve.
Than’s words had ripped down the wall where I had buried all my grief, and it came pouring out with excruciating pain.
I went to the bed and slipped off my shoes, then curled up on my side to stare out the window. I realized Satan was already here, and he had blue eyes, brown hair that was naturally highlighted by the sun, a chiseled jaw, wide shoulders…complete physical perfection.
Five
Than
Finishing the last of my sandwich, I shifted my eyes off the television to look at the closed bedroom door for at least the fifteenth time since I’d sat down to eat. If she wanted to stay in there and sulk, then it would make being in here a hell of a lot more enjoyable. I hadn’t known throwing facts at her would send her running and shut her up, or I’d have walked in the door, spewing them.
Because even when she was being snarky, that voice of hers had a sultry sound to it that didn’t need to be coming out of a mouth like hers. It was just shy of being too wide with a generously plump bottom lip. It was already lethal. To most men. Not me. I was immune. I knew better. She was the screwed-up daughter of a stripper with major daddy issues. Those were the crazy kind. I steered clear of them.
Picking up my soda, I took a long drink, then set it beside my plate on the coffee table. The Braves game was on, and I should be watching at Gathe’s, but I was here. Watching it alone. I needed more food.
Standing up, I started for the refrigerator, but moved over closer to her door to listen. Make sure she wasn’t on the phone, talking to anyone. The sooner I found something to use against her, the sooner I was back home. The sound of running water was all I heard. She must have gotten in the shower. Tonight, when she went to sleep, I was going to go through every single text, app, and call on her phone. I’d find something. Hell, maybe by tomorrow, I’d have my life back.
I wondered if Jayda had made game food. I should text her and see if she would send some out to me. Picking up my phone, I noticed two missed text messages.
Gathe: Fuck, man. I heard what Linc has you doing. That sucks ass. Is she hot at least?
Hot didn’t describe her. She was more than hot. I’d go with fire. But fire wasn’t enough when she was fucking crazy and would likely do psycho shit. Not that a guy would mind if she decided to stalk him. He’d probably enjoy it.