Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Even though we’re alone, I lower my voice. “Yeah, us hooking up?”
“What’s there to discuss? We made out, did some stuff, and that was the end of it.” She shrugs and relaxes on the chair, crossing her legs, and tapping her foot. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Oh. Okay.” I have no clue how to proceed. I’m at a loss. But I can’t keep staring at her like a dumbass. Especially when she raises her brows in silent question. “I…wanted to make sure that we’re good,” I mumble.
For the first time since walking in the door, Daisy gifts me with a cool smile as she rises from the chair. “Don’t worry about it, Carter, we’re good. I’ve already forgotten about what happened. It’s water under the bridge.”
“Okay, well…great,” I mumble.
She takes a few steps toward the hallway. “Is there anything else?”
“Ummm, no.” There’s a peculiar sensation growing in my belly. Like something isn’t quite right, but I have no idea what. “That was it.”
I’m tempted to ask if she’s sure about us being good. But I’ve made enough of an ass out of myself where Daisy is concerned. The best thing we can do is put this behind us and move on.
So…this is good.
“All right then,” she calls over her shoulder. “I have to get ready.”
I perk up. “Oh?”
She just walked through the door five minutes ago. Where the hell is she off to?
Daisy heads to her room and closes the door before I can give her the fifth degree. I focus on the television but don’t ask me what I’m watching, because I couldn’t tell you. My ears are pricked for the slightest sound coming from Daisy’s room. I shift on the couch and click to a different station. We have the super deluxe sports package, so there are a million channels to choose from.
Why do I care what Daisy does?
I click to another station.
I’ve never cared before.
Point and flick.
Well, that’s not altogether true.
Fine, I care.
I just don’t want to care.
Does that make any difference?
I suspect it doesn’t.
Click.
My brows snap together as I see a couple making out on the screen.
What the hell am I even watching?
Flick.
Fuck me.
I plow my hand through my hair with more agitation than when she first walked in the door.
How’s that possible?
I was afraid she’d be hurt or pissed off and she was neither of those things. She didn’t give one single fuck about what happened between us. She was totally nonchalant about the situation. And damn, if that doesn’t chafe my ass. Which is ridiculous. This is precisely the outcome I was shooting for.
And yet…
By the time Daisy opens her bedroom door and walks out again, I’ve worked myself up into a fine lather. I’m practically frothing at the mouth.
What the hell has this girl done to me?
I pride myself on being able to remain detached from most situations. Especially ones that involve chicks. And yet, Daisy has managed to flip a switch inside me. She’s totally messed up my narrative.
Whatever I was about to say dies on my lips as my gaze rakes over her.
Short skirt that bares way too much of her legs. Tight top that hugs her curves.
Curves that I had my hands all over last night. And heels that give her more height.
I narrow my eyes knowing exactly what this outfit signifies.
Why the hell is she wearing one of her date night outfits? I’ve seen enough variations to know a I’m-hoping-to-get-laid outfit when I see one.
I sit up straight as my voice sharpens. “Where did you say you were going?”
She throws a look my way as if she can barely tolerate the sight of me.
Seriously?
It takes everything I have inside not to jump off the couch and remind her exactly who’s arms she spent the night wrapped in. But, I don’t. Somehow, I manage to keep my shit together.
“I didn’t.” She grabs her purse off the table.
I gnash my teeth together and count to ten, trying to rein in my temper. The fact that I shouldn’t give a damn about where she goes, what she does, or who she does it with, isn’t lost on me.
“Are you going out on a date?” I congratulate myself for keeping my voice neutral.
“Yup.”
Her coolness is like nails slowly scraping across a chalkboard. For Christ’s sake, I should be rejoicing that she’s moved on so quickly. Instead…
“And you’re wearing that?” My brows lower.
Daisy glances at her ensemble. “That was the plan. Why? Is there something wrong with it?”
I make a conscious effort to unlock my jaw. “Don’t you think that skirt is a bit short?”
She smooths a hand over the fabric. Not that there’s much of it.
Just a hint of a frown mars her face as she considers the question. “No. It hits mid-thigh, which is a perfectly acceptable length.”
“You can’t even bend over without flashing your panties,” I point out. That thought is enough to incense me.