Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 11120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 56(@200wpm)___ 44(@250wpm)___ 37(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 56(@200wpm)___ 44(@250wpm)___ 37(@300wpm)
“You're from here. You know what the storms are like,” I chastise her.
She bites her lip and looks to the window. The glass panes are choked with white, but there’s a small dark center that shows white flakes flurrying through the night.
I want to do a lot more than scold her so I force myself to head for the door.
“I’m getting more wood,” I say without turning. “Stay by the fire. It's snowing like crazy, and there’s no way a truck can get up here before they plow the road. Looks like you're here for the night.”
Lainey
Ten minutes in Joel’s house and I’ve already screwed up. He scowls as he tells me to stay, as if the thought of sharing his home with me for the night disgusts him. The door slams behind him.
I palm my cheeks. Am I so repulsive? Such awful company?
My hair is tangled and the ends are wet from melting snow. I push the mass back and adjust the old quilt he threw over me. I’m wearing my nicest sweater and favorite pair of jeans. The fuzzy wool and denim are buttery soft and fall nicely over my curves, highlighting the swell of my breasts and butt, hiding the rest.
In high school, Joel was a chick magnet. He didn't have to chase girls, they flocked to him. Blondes or brunettes, pink-haired emo goth wannabes or the most prissy cheerleaders—he didn’t seem to have a preference. He didn’t care if you had a boyfriend or were flirting with him to make your crush jealous. He’d be down for a quickie in his old Corvette, the one he bought at auction and pieced back together with parts he scavenged from the junkyard. It had different colored doors but was still an awesome ride.
No one was surprised when he got busted for jacking cars. What was more surprising was that after he did his time for grand larceny, he came back to our little town.
“Where else would he go?” my aunt Gemma snorted when a customer gossiped about this in front of her. “He always liked the woods.”
I’d always had a crush on Joel Adler, the coolest boy in school. But that was the first time I saw him for more than his facade, the sexy charm boy who was always down for a fuck or a fight. I remembered how he created works of art in shop class: birdhouses and stools and even a cradle, made with honey-stained wood.
The next time he came into Aunt Gemma’s store, I summoned my courage and gave him a smile.
The cabin door swings open, letting in a blast of frozen air. I summon my habitual smile but it falters in the frozen stare of my host. He comes in, blowing smoke and glowering at me like a frost giant who’s found an intruder in his lair.
His cold stare doesn’t cool his hotness one degree. If Joel was gorgeous as a boy, he’s breathtaking as a man. Tall, with lean muscles, and thick brown hair striated with red and blond like rare wood. Eyes a striking, crystalline blue.
He stomps past, carrying a stack of wood that looks like it weighs more than I do. The only sounds are the crackle of the flame-eaten logs, and his harsh breathing.
I knot my fingers together. I’ve messed up and I don't know how to make it right. So I sit in silence and watch Joel stack wood. Once he’s done, he strips off his coat and toes off his boots, and my own breaths grow heavy. He’s got a flannel shirt on, and while I watch, he loosens the button and rolls up his sleeves. He’s not bulky, but he’s strong. Sleek as a mountain lion. Even the indigo smudges of his prison tattoos lurking under the crisp, gold-tinted hairs on his powerful forearms are sexy. Another layer to the enigma that is Joel Adler.
I’ve always liked puzzles. Mystery novels, or romances with anti-heroes. Chapters with layer upon layer of intrigue my intellect can sink into. The blessing and curse of the voracious bookworm: a life lived sitting in corners, hiding between the pages, reading instead of living life.
One more semester, and I’ll graduate with my Masters in Library Science. I’ll move out of my parents’ summer home, find a job, wear frumpy sweaters and pencil skirts, adopt a succulent and a cat. Become a cliche.
The only blip on my horizon, the only piece that doesn’t fit, is Joel Adler. Another woman would know exactly what to say to him. She’d be cuddled right up with him on the couch.
“Are you cold?” he asks, staring at the fire as if it’ll give him the answers.
“I’m good.” My voice is soft.
Coming here was a mistake. I know that now. Some adventures are best left to heroines in books.