Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“It’s so good to get out of that,” I went on with an intense shiver as I closed the door, and Derek frowned, looking me over.
“Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine once I get home and out of these wet clothes. Some dry pyjamas and a hot cocoa should do the trick.”
Something I couldn’t decipher flickered in his gaze at the mention of me getting out of my uniform. It was gone in an instant, and he cleared his throat. “You live on Biscayne?”
I nodded, flushing slightly. I hadn’t expected him to know where my house was. “That’s right. Thank you.”
“It’s no problem.”
We fell into silence while he pulled the car back out onto the road, the windscreen wipers working overtime to clear the downpour. The radio was on low, but the heating was high, the intense blast warming my cold, damp skin. I grimaced at the sensation of my wet skirt sticking to my legs as I rubbed my hands together to get some heat back into my fingers. Derek glanced at the movement then focused back on the road.
“So,” he began after a minute or two. “Milly? Is that short for something?”
“Oh, yes, it’s short for—”
“No, wait, let me guess,” he said, a playful smile shaping his lips. “Is it … Millicent?” I screwed up my face, and he chuckled. “Okay, not that. How about Mildred?” I shook my head. “Hmm, Emilia, perhaps?”
“Nope.” I pressed my lips together, amused because he seemed annoyed that he hadn’t guessed correctly yet.
“Don’t tell me it’s Milton?”
I burst out laughing, my giggles filling the confined space, and Derek chuckled softly, too. “Oh, my goodness, can you imagine if my parents named me Milton? I’d be a laughingstock.”
“They could be Milton Keynes F.C. superfans. You never know. I have a friend whose cousin gave their baby the middle name Juventus.”
“That is truly horrifying,” I exclaimed. “And since you’re so bad at guessing, I’ll tell you. Milly is short for Camille.”
“Camille,” Derek repeated as though testing out the sound.
Something about the way he said it, his voice deep and rumbly, had my skin tingling—and not because of the damp cloth sticking to it. We stopped at a red light, and he cast me a glance, his dark eyes trailing over me and making my skin feel tight.
“That’s actually perfect. You look like a Camille.”
I shifted in place, lowering my gaze because his gold-flecked eyes were a little intense. It was no wonder he was such a big hit with all the girls in this town. Having Derek’s Balfe’s full attention was something of an experience. My stomach wouldn’t quit doing frenzied somersaults. There was just something about him that had a heady effect on me. Perhaps it was the broad shoulders, his height, or merely the confident way he carried himself. His dark hair was short at the sides with a little more length on top, his nose straight and faintly Greek in shape. He also had what appeared to be a small brown birth mark on the left side of his neck just below his jawline. I found myself studying it intently before I lifted my gaze and saw him watching me. He smiled in a way that said he didn’t mind me looking. I could only imagine what he must think of me by contrast in my drenched clothes and mousy hair that always managed to turn both flat and poofy in the rain.
I was caught on his statement, You look like a Camille, curious to know what he meant. Was it a good thing or a bad thing? “What does a Camille look like?” I asked quietly.
Derek appeared as though he was about to say something but then thought better of it. He rubbed lightly at his chin then placed his hand back on the steering wheel. “Like you, I guess.”
“Well,” I said, relieved he hadn’t pointed out my bedraggled appearance but also vaguely disappointed he hadn’t said something positive either. “Literally everyone calls me Milly, so it doesn’t really matter.”
“Which do you prefer?”
“I honestly don’t mind. It’s just a name. So long as it’s not Milton.” I grinned.
“You’re not going to let me live that one down, are you?” Derek responded just as he pulled into my housing estate. He drove up the hill, made a left turn, then pulled to a stop right outside my house. I was stunned that he knew not only the general location of where I lived but my exact house, too. The Balfes lived in a large house right by the beach. I always imagined how nice it must be to just look out the window and have the sea right there. Walk across the street and sink your toes into the sand.
“It’s just that you really sounded like you thought it was a possibility,” I teased, undoing my seat belt.