Resisting Mr. Fancy Pants Read Online Terri E. Laine

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
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My arms felt like Jell-O when we were done without success. We both lay on the beach, catching a tan as our only reward. By night my stomach was rumbling and, without fanfare, Agan split one bar in half. In silent agreement, I took my half without a word.

We had yet to see a boat or hear a plane above us. Wherever we were, there was nothing for as far as our eyes could see. Except there was. I pointed to the sky. “Is that what I think it is?” I couldn’t be sure if I was seeing things.

There in the distance, a stream of light had streaked across the darkened sky.

“I saw it too,” he said. “Did you make a wish?”

I had almost everything I wanted in the man that held me, but I’d wished most to get us home, so I nodded in reply to his question.

In the splendor of a shooting star, neither of us said it but doubt about our rescue was creeping into my mind. That didn’t stop us from coming together that night in more ways than one.

As our bodies cooled from the sweat of our lovemaking, I asked a question I’d been thinking about. “Why do you think your parents aren’t together? And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”

“No, it’s fine. I asked my dad the very same question.” He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “He told me a story about how he’d gone on a lads’ holiday in Scotland, where he met my mother. They hit it off and spent a lot of time together. Then he left and, in his words, did his duty and married the woman he’d been betrothed to.”

That sounded medieval, but I had a different question I wanted to ask. “Did he know about you?”

Agan nodded. “Mom told him. But Dad said he’d made a promise he had to keep.”

“Wow. He married for duty and not love.”

“It was important to my grandfather for my dad to marry the right woman.”

We were silent after that.

Day three started out nice. The “HELP” sign was still in place and the fire hadn’t completely burned out. We split a protein bar and a bottle of water before we went in search of more wood.

The silence was deafening as we went. I was reminded of his statement about how the quiet meant bad things for food. When we weren’t screwing each other’s brains out, I was dreaming of the diner. Oh, how spoiled I’d been to have pancakes within reach at the diner. What I wouldn’t do for scrambled eggs, hash browns and bacon right about now.

But there was nothing. Not even water. We only had a few bottles more, so guzzling one bottle to fool my stomach into believing it was full was out of the question.

After gathering wood, we spent the rest of the day walking the perimeter of the island to see if there was a better spot with anything that could help us. Nothing. Though the island was small, according to Agan, the walk was long. My feet were thoroughly hurt by the time we returned, Unlike Agan, I didn’t have shoes. They were at the bottom of the ocean with everything else, like a change of clothes. That left the bottom of my feet with some cuts, but they were mostly sore from walking on the uneven ground. That night, we held each other. I let silent tears fall as my hopes did too.

Day four I felt parched. My lips were cracked by afternoon. After our normal breakfast of a half a bar and a shared water bottle, we’d walked to the other side of the island with no results. I was dead tired upon our return. The sun was unrelenting, and I collapsed with exhaustion upon reaching our base camp, as I’d begun to call it.

“We only have two bottles of water left,” Agan announced.

Even though I hadn’t spoken, my tongue felt thick. I could hear the waves, but that meant nothing. We couldn’t drink it—something about salt water, I vaguely remembered. I wanted to curse the world but saved my strength.

“Here,” he said.

I opened my eyes and spotted the water bottle he held out to me. I shook my head.

“Drink, Haley. We’ll figure out something.”

I could tell he wasn’t going to let me not take it. It took me a bit to get the darn thing open. I took a swig and then held out the bottle to him. He shook his head. “I will not drink unless you do,” I croaked.

He sighed and took the bottle. He took a pull from the bottle and handed it back to me. I closed it up. I’d learned the best way to get over hunger and thirst was to sleep.

Day five the heavens opened for us. The sound of pouring rain drew me from my slumber. I scrambled out of the tent and bent my head back with an open mouth and let the rain pour down my throat until my senses came back to me.



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