Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Oh, and just to throw me off guard, he asked if I still rode toboggans shirtless.
I chuckled, wiping wet flurries from my eyelashes. I cranked the screws on the base of the tree, then shook excess snow from the branches while Cameron unlocked the front door.
“Not if I can help it. I can’t remember the last time I was on a sled at all. Can you?”
He left the fresh garland and the wreath on the porch, stomped his boots on the mat, and held the door open for me. “I’m a Californian, Joe. I don’t sled.”
“You could. I’ve heard there are mountains with great skiing in Cali.” I carried the tree into the foyer and scanned the area. “Where do you want this?”
Cameron frowned as he shrugged his arms out of his coat. “I don’t know. It’s probably best to put it in one of the front rooms so it’ll be easy to get rid of. I suppose we could leave it here in the entry next to the staircase or…in the living room.”
“It’ll be in the way here and unless you spend any time in the living room, you’ll forget about it till July when it’s nothing more than a dead trunk surrounded by brown needles.”
“True.”
“How about your office?”
He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Then I’ll have to look at it.”
“Your punishment for buying a tree in the first place,” I snarked.
He rolled his eyes but gamely helped me carry the tree into his office. We positioned it near the window and stood aside to admire our handiwork.
“It doesn’t look half bad.” Cameron pulled his cell from his pocket and snapped a few photos. “We can get rid of it this weekend.”
I frowned. “I thought you were at least going to put lights on it and keep it till Christmas.”
He fixed me with a curious stare. “If you insist.”
“I don’t insist. I don’t care if you keep it or decorate it at all. It’s your damn tree, not mine.” I rubbed my palms for warmth as I stepped away from the tree. “I’m gonna demo the basement stairs and let you get to work. I’ve heard that writers don’t like to be away from their computers for long.”
“True, but I’ve been working all day,” he replied, hiking his jeans up slightly and perching on the edge of his desk.
“Grilling me passes for research, eh?”
“Absolutely. It was an informative excursion. I learned a lot about your hometown and…you.”
I scoffed. “That I worked at the local tree farm when I was a kid?”
“Sure. Among other things.” His voice sounded huskier than usual.
And damn, that was sexy.
Christ, what was it about this guy? I didn’t want to be attracted to him. He was a secret-stealer, and I wasn’t interested in baring my soul. The problem was that he was crafty as fuck and well versed in the art of positive manipulation. Right this very second, I sensed a strong power shift, but I was determined to fight it.
I mirrored his pose and crossed my arms. “Such as?”
A playful smile ghosted over Cameron’s full lips. “You’re stubborn, but loyal. You’re extremely private, but I can’t tell if that’s a protective mechanism or defensive. And you’re a loner.”
All true.
“Anything else?”
“Well…I think you have a bit of a God complex,” he replied carefully.
I narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?”
“You’re a control freak. In a perfect world, you’d like to control or manage others’ expectations. You hate that you care what others think, but you do. That probably has something to do with the fact that you come from a good place and you don’t like the idea of anything tainting it. Big cities have a way of desensitizing. Trust me. I know how that goes.”
I was too taken aback by the ultra-personal read to reply immediately. Surprise gave way to righteous indignation and anger.
I glowered as I moved toward him. “What the fuck? You don’t know me or anything about my life or—”
“Hey, relax.” Cameron held his hands up in surrender. “It’s an observation, not an insult.”
“Well…don’t observe me. It’s creepy,” I growled. “Especially coming from someone who writes murder mysteries.”
A slow-moving pirate’s smile took over his face. “Fair point, but as you said, it’s my job to watch and take note of my surroundings.”
I cocked my head, studying his chiseled features and proud carriage in those designer duds. Everything about Cameron Warren screamed “special,” and I had no doubt that was the case. But I was still smarting after his astute analysis. I couldn’t help wondering how much of his dapper bear façade was for show.
“Hmm. Maybe. Or maybe you snoop to dodge your own reality.” I shrugged. “Just a thought.”
He arched a brow but didn’t speak.
Was it my imagination or was the air suddenly buzzing? My gaze darted to the darkening skies out the window, but the sizzle of electricity was all us. I couldn’t read any signs.