Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
"Wonder what they're going to be doing," she says under her breath as she crosses the room in my direction.
"I'll get with you later to coordinate your travel to work tomorrow," Bandera says before disappearing, leaving the two of us alone in the kitchen.
"Did you get enough clothes?" I ask as she steps up to the counter opposite of me.
"Probably not, but I just couldn't stand to be there any longer." She lifts her body, taking a seat on one of the breakfast barstools. "Do you think Henry put up hidden cameras in my house?"
"It's possible," I answer honestly, hating the way the goosebumps runs down her arms. "He's quick to use any sort of technology to further his plans."
"And we still don't know what his plans are?"
I shake my head. "Other than to get on my nerves? I don't know."
"How many of those are you going to eat?" she asks, making me look down and notice I've unwrapped four Hot Pockets from the multi-count box.
"Shit," I mutter before looking up. "Sorry."
"Do you think I'm some innocent woman who would get offended with a cuss word?"
"Just trying to be respectful," I say, pointing down at the opened food. "Want some?"
Her nose scrunches.
"It's just cheese and pepperoni."
"Is it real cheese?"
I grab the box and look at the ingredient list before shrugging. "No clue."
Her laughter swarms around me much the same way it did last night, and it has no less of an effect than it did twelve hours ago.
"I've never had one," she confesses.
"How is that even possible? You went to the University of Las Vegas. It's a college student's rite of passage to eat all sorts of microwavable foods."
I freeze when her right eyebrow lifts, and I know it's because I just slipped, disclosing that I know more information about her than she has told me herself.
"Your research didn't tell you about my meal plan?"
I roll my lips between my teeth to keep from smiling when she grins at me. I don't even know how to act right now. She could easily be mad about what I know about her, but I'm not getting that vibe.
"I do know about your meal plan," I confess, watching her face to gauge her response, but she simply smiles wider and shakes her head. "How does someone eat so much salad?"
Her mouth drops open. "What else do you know about me?"
"I wonder why, after losing and having to replace the copy of Jane Eyre you borrowed from the library twice, you didn't buy your own copy. It would've prevented you from having to purchase it the third time after losing it once again."
Her cheeks flame pink. "Are you kidding me? You know about that?"
"I do," I admit.
"Did your research indicate that I had a massive crush on the librarian's nephew, who stayed with her during the summer and helped at our local library?"
"Bryant Hi—"
"Hilt," she says at the same time. "You realize how creepy that is?"
"Thorough," I counter, glad that she's still smiling.
"What else do you know?"
I swallow as I watch her face. "It's my job to research."
"What else do you know?" she repeats, but her tone doesn't make me think she's growing angry.
"You need to change the oil in your car."
Her head tilts slightly. "How do you have access to that?"
"There's an app on your phone."
"You went through my phone?"
I watch as she pats her pocket, a look of relief coming over her face to find that it's where she left it.
"I don't have to have your phone to access it," I confess.
"That's—"
"Thorough," I interject. "We needed to know what was going on with Henry."
"Wait," she says, holding a hand up, her eyes fluttering closed. "You went through my messages with Henry?"
"I needed to know if he left me clues."
"Left you clues."
"Correct," I say, wondering why I just couldn't keep my mouth closed, but lies of omission are still lies, aren't they? I didn't do these things to violate her in any way, although that may still be the outcome. "Henry put you in my path on purpose. Everything he did was calculated and part of his plan to get to me."
"I feel—"
"Violated?" I ask. "I'm sorry he did that to you."
"I sent him nudes," she says when her eyes open.
"You did. I scrolled past them quickly and blurred them before the other guys saw the messages."
"You shared the messages?"
"We're a team," I say quickly. "They didn't see the photos."
"Because they were blurred."
"Right."
"So they know I sent naked photos."
"You're an adult, Morgan. There isn't a soul here that's going to judge you for sending photos to someone you had a sexual relationship with."
Her eyes narrow. "You didn't spend any time looking at them?"
I shake my head. "Of course not. I do a lot of research, but I'd never violate your privacy that way."
"I feel like you're telling me the truth," she says.