The Long Road Home - Page 18

Classic.

“She was definitely hot,” he comments with a self-assured nod.

I scrunch my nose and purse my lips. “I’m not a fan of that word.”

An astonished look crosses over his features. “What?”

“Hot. I’m not a fan of that word.” Never have been.

“I’m sure a lot of women would consider that a compliment.”

I shrug. “Well I’m not a lot of women.”

I prefer compliments with a little more effort or meaning.

Like beautiful.

Ravishing.

Stunning.

The English language provides a plethora of words that can be used to give a woman a compliment and in my opinion, “hot” isn’t one of them.

It doesn’t take much to impress someone like me. Seriously,

little things make me over-the-moon excited. If I was with someone and he showed up to my door-step with a flower he picked from my neighbor’s yard I’d beam brightly and clap my hands. I don’t need elaborate gifts or to be wined and dined. Yes, I feel like some effort on the guy’s part is necessary, but like I said before, it doesn’t have to be much.

“Yeah,” Ray clears his throat. “I can tell.” He coughs out, “Stiff.”

I playfully slap his shoulder and force out, “Stop calling me that.” Actually, it’s growing on me. I’d rather him call me ‘Stiff’ than ‘Duchess.’ “Hey I happen to think having class is a good thing.”

He drains the rest of the contents in his cup and twists the lid back on his thermos. “It is…but there is such a thing of taking it too far.” He turns to face me.

My mouth drops open. “I don’t take it too far.”

Ray reaches up behind my head and flicks my ponytail. “Do you ever let your hair down at all, Duchess?”

“Psh,” I scoff. “Yes.” Well, I used to. When I was a teen I went through a rebellious phase where my parents were the devil and staying out until four A.M. on a school night was way cool. Of course I grew out of that phase and by the time I was twenty one I was over it.

“Well, what do you do for fun then?” Ray questions.

“I read,” I tell him. “And hang out with friends.”

He rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Wow…Sounds like you’re really living the dream.” He lifts his chin at me. “You catch the sarcasm in that?”

“Screw you,” I snap and he laughs. The laughter rolls from his throat like the loud claps of thunder hidden behind walls of gray during an intense storm.

It’s deep.

Booming.

All that’s missing are the colliding flashes of lightning.

I sneer at him. It comes off like he’s mocking me. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” He catches his breath. “You need a life.”

“I have a life,” I tell him. “Just because it’s not one that falls into your standards of living doesn’t mean that it’s not a life.”

Tags: Lauren Hammond Romance
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