Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“I might keep it on. I’m still cold.”
“Here. You can put this on if you want.”
When I turned around, he stood there holding out the black sweater he’d been wearing earlier today. “Don’t you want to wear it?”
“I’m fine.” He tossed the sweater on the bed. “It’s yours if you want it.”
“Okay.” I set the wine down and gave him my coat. While he hung it next to his, I pulled his sweater over my head. It was huge and thick and warm. “Much better. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He watched me pull out my ponytail holder and shake my hair loose.
“What?” I said, unnerved by his stare.
“Nothing. I just never see you with your hair down. It looks nice.”
I studied him with suspicion. “You hang up my coat, you give me your sweater, you say something nice . . .”
“I let you get snot on me,” he reminded me, gesturing toward where I’d been standing when I burst into tears.
“Yeah, what is this? Who are you?”
“Hey, you’re the one who held my hand in the kitchenette.”
My jaw dropped. “I did not hold your hand in the kitchenette! I was merely trying to prevent frostbite.”
“Well, I was merely trying to make you feel better after a rough night. Because I’m a nice guy.” He reached out and flicked my earlobe.
“Stop it.” I swatted his hand away. “Just when I think you’ve changed, you turn into the playground bully again.”
He flashed his palms at me. “Hey. How about we call a truce for the night? No fighting.”
“Is that even possible when it’s just you and me holed up in this knotty pine igloo with no chance of escaping?”
“Yes. Because we are no longer eight-year-olds on the playground or even teenagers at the dunk tank—we are grown-ass adults and co-workers, and we are perfectly capable of surviving this night in peace.” He grabbed the plastic bag of snacks from the gas station and dumped them out on the bed—chips, cookies, candy, protein bars. “Plus we have good wine and enough salt and sugar in this bag to get us through winter.”
I turned around and picked up my wine. “Okay, then. Truce.”
He tapped his glass to mine. “Truce.”
I sat on one side of the mattress criss-cross applesauce, while he stretched out on the other end. Leaning back against the headboard, he extended his long legs, crossing his feet at the ankles.
My eyes traveled over him from head to foot. His muscular, six-foot-plus frame was going to take up a lot of space in this bed. We’d be right next to each other, under the covers, in the dark.
All. Night. Long.
I took a hefty gulp of wine.
“So what should we talk about?” Gianni reached for a bag of potato chips and opened it up. “Our goals and dreams? Our biggest fears? Our deepest, darkest secrets?”
“My goal is to make it through the night,” I said, taking another sip from my glass. “Maybe get a little drunk.”
“Aren’t you worried about what I’ll do if you get tipsy?”
I eyeballed him with suspicion. “What would you do?”
“I don’t know. Sit on you and let drool ooze out of my mouth until it’s about to hit your face and then suck it back in?”
“You wouldn’t dare. We called a truce, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” He crunched on a chip. “I should have thought that through first.”
I set my wine on the table next to the bed and grabbed the package of M&M’s. Tearing it open, I popped a couple in my mouth. They were comforting, although I did wish I had a spoon and a jar of peanut butter. I should have looked for one at the gas station. “You know what? Junk food is exactly what I needed.”
He watched me shovel in another handful. “Is that your favorite candy or something?”
I nodded. “They melt in your mouth, not in your hand.”
“I love things that melt in my mouth,” Gianni said, and something about the way his lips wrapped around the words made me feel hot in the cold room.
I took a sip of my wine.
Gianni ate another chip. “So do you want to talk about tonight?”
“No.”
“Good. Then let’s play a drinking game.”
Tossing a few more M&M’s in my mouth, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Such as?”
“I don’t know. Truth or dare.”
“No, you’ll just dare me to get naked or something.”
He looked offended. “I don’t have to trick women into taking their clothes off, thank you very much. They volunteer.”
“Of course they do. Wait—I have an idea.” I got off the bed and dug my phone from my bag. “There’s an app called Truth or Drink. We used to play it at parties in college. You get random questions and you have to answer truthfully or drink.”
“So it’s honor system?”
“Yes.” I returned to the bed and looked at the screen. “Winnie called back. Hang on, let me listen to her voicemail.” I put the phone to my ear and heard Winnie’s voice, frantic with concern.