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)
"And?" he asks after I swallow.
"Not terrible, but I don't think it'll become a staple of my diet anytime soon," I answer as I cut another piece.
"It's worth every single sit-up, every step on the treadmill," he says before taking another massive bite.
"My gym time hasn't been what it should be in the last couple of months," I confess. "Mostly because of how often I go out after work for a few drinks."
"You look fantastic," he says almost absently, and I know better by now than to read too much into his words.
"Thank you," I say, lifting my second bite to my mouth. "Ugh."
I chew and swallow despite the way it makes my stomach turn because spitting it out would embarrass me more than this second bite grosses me out.
"Still cold in the middle?" he says, and I nod. "Yeah, that's the one bad thing about this stuff. The ends can be the temperatures of hell and take several layers off your tongue, and the middle could still be frozen solid and chip a tooth. It's a crapshoot, really."
Having learned my lesson, I don't bother to take another bite. It isn't a hardship to watch as he eats three before staring down at what is left of mine on the plate.
"It's yours," I say, pushing the plate closer to him.
His grin is wide, making me wonder if he was just sharing to be nice and had every intention of eating four of these things before I interrupted him.
"I swear I can't believe you don't weigh five hundred pounds."
"I don't even have a food baby," he says, lifting his shirt long enough for my eyes to fixate on that trail of hair that runs from his belly button down into his jeans.
"Men have all the luck," I mutter. "I probably gained ten pounds from those two bites I took."
"I doubt it, but like I said, we can hit the gym."
"Are you guys going to work out?"
I turn my attention behind me, smiling when I see Kaylee walking up in a swimsuit cover-up holding a massive towel.
"I was checking to see if you might want to get into the hot tub."
"I thought you were busy for the next two hours," I challenge, remembering what Ellis had said on his way from the room not half an hour ago.
"Not busy," she says, purposely avoiding eye contact with Ellis when he enters the room and goes to the fridge.
"Is this some sort of sex game?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at my best friend.
"If you don't want to go, then just say so," she says, but I look over at Robert.
"Hot tub?"
He shrugs. "I've got a few minutes."
I fight the urge to jump up from the stool I'm sitting on and rush up the stairs to change into my bathing suit.
"Meet you out there?" I ask Kaylee.
"Sounds good," she says before turning toward the hallway that leads to the stairs that will take her out through the den and into the backyard.
Ellis isn't far behind her, and Kaylee's squeal of delight filters into the living room as I make my way toward the stairs.
I know how silly it is that my heart is sort of racing right now, but it's been a long time since I've felt so excited about something so simple.
I'm nearly breathless as I make it to my room and drag my suitcases from the hallway inside.
I've been in the hot tub nearly every day since I got here, and I've been using one of Kaylee's bathing suits. I feel a certain kind of thrill that I'll get to wear one of my own two-piece suits rather than the one-piece she let me borrow.
When I pull out the two suits I packed earlier, I hesitate.
What I know about men tells me that they are very visual creatures. But I don't want Robert to form an opinion about me worse than it may already be, considering I sent naughty pictures to his brother not long after meeting him in front of that restaurant.
I pull in a deep breath and head to the bathroom. As much as I want to fight the urge to wear a suit that is too sexy, I also need to stay true to myself. Changing how I go about this is one thing. Acting like someone I'm not is completely different and manipulative.
I run my hands over my body to make sure the suit is in its proper place as I spin and check myself out from every angle. I've worked incredibly hard for the body I have, but it's almost like I can see every drink I mentioned to Robert earlier.
I pluck at my hip, hating the imperfections there.
I tilt my head back, lifting my eyes to the ceiling, knowing it would be an even bigger red flag if I was so overconfident to think my body was perfect.