Ready or Not (The Love Game Book 4) by Elizabeth Hayley (i wanna iguana read aloud txt) 📗

to be aware. Also I looked on Street View on Google Maps and saw a man relieving himself into a recycling bin. Honestly, Taylor, I’m happy your new community is doing its part to preserve the environment, but I’m more than a little worried about the types of characters you might be encountering. It seems a bit dangerous.”

“No offense, but it’s hard for me to take any of your safety concerns seriously when you’re paying to drink and ride a wild animal. Does Australia have DUIs?”

“I’m not drinking before the ride.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “But seriously, Tay, I wanted to get you something, and I didn’t wanna risk having it left outside your apartment, so you’ll have to sign for it. It should be there sometime in the morning. Will you be around?”

“Should be. I’ll let you know when it gets here. You really didn’t have to send anything,” I told her.

“Of course I did. I should’ve sent you something sooner.”

“Well, thank you,” I said, and I meant it. I didn’t want to be my mom’s and Joe’s charity case, but I wouldn’t turn down a little housewarming gift. “I’ll text you tomorrow when it gets here because you’ll probably be asleep.”

“Okay, love you. Have a good night.”

“Love you too. You have a good night too. Or…morning? Day? What time is it there?”

I laughed, and she did too. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

That was one of the strangest phone calls I’d had with my mother in recent memory, and our conversations were usually a little odd, mainly on my mom’s end. After straightening up the kitchen a bit, I heard a knock.

I waited a few seconds to answer so I didn’t look like I’d been sitting by the door anticipating his arrival. I’d expected to hear the buzzer first, but obviously someone must’ve let him into the building. Why someone would allow a nearly six-and-a-half-foot male they didn’t recognize into the apartment made me realize how right my mom had probably been about it being a little dangerous.

Pulling open the door, I straightened the cat tank top as if it might make me look more presentable. It didn’t, since my decision not to put on a bra—which I realized only after opening the door—was really weird. Or maybe it was weirder to put one on. No one wore bras under their pajamas.

“Hey,” he said, a lopsided grin on his face that revealed one of his dimples.

In a white fitted T-shirt that hit just below the waistband of his navy workout shorts, he was more dressed down than I usually saw him but no less beautiful to look at. The muscles stretched the fabric on his chest and biceps, and his quads bulged below the hem of his shorts. It made me want to see other bulges that might be in there.

Not many guys looked good in shorts above their knees, but Ransom was definitely in that minority. The short distance between us made him seem even taller, and I was suddenly aware that my head had probably been moving up and down the length of his body as I ogled him.

“You okay?” he asked, reminding me that I hadn’t said anything in response to his greeting.

“Hi,” I said, but it came out as more of a breathy sound than an actual word with any sort of meaning. “And yes, yes, I’m fine. I just… I don’t think my contact’s in.” I reached up to my eye to make it more believable.

“I didn’t know you wore contacts.”

“I don’t…anymore,” I explained. “I used to wear them, but I recently switched to glasses, and now I keep thinking a contact fell out even though I never put them in at all.” I hoped he didn’t comment on the fact that I wasn’t wearing glasses either.

He nodded slowly, but I wasn’t sure if it was because what I said actually made sense or if he just wanted to make me stop talking. “So…can I come in?”

I moved out of the way and gestured for him to enter. “Of course. Sorry. Yes. Come in.”

He almost laughed. “Thanks. I was hoping you weren’t rethinking hanging out tonight.”

“Nope. The only thing I’m rethinking is my outfit choice.”

This time he did laugh. “I’d offer to get puppy ones to coordinate, but I wouldn’t look very good in that tank top.”

You look good in pretty much everything.

“Pretty much?”

“Oh my God, I said that out loud?”

“Yup. But I guess I should return the compliment since it’s true. Not many people could look good covered in feline faces, but somehow you make it work.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I was glad when he held up the bag he had in his hand and said, “I brought three flavors of ice cream. Why don’t you start up that Shit Show or whatever it’s called and point me toward the spoons?”

R A N S O M

Even though Taylor didn’t have much furniture, she somehow managed to make the place feel comfortable. She’d propped some large pillows at the head of her bed—or mattress—against the wall so we would have a place to relax while we watched the show. She still only had two bar stools and an oversized chair in her living room. And though it looked comfortable as hell, it probably wouldn’t fit both of us without things feeling awkward.

And even though we found ourselves physically close by most standards of intimacy, nothing about lying—or sitting—in a bed with Taylor felt strange. Maybe it was the chocolate marshmallow or the fuzzy gray blanket we had draped over us, but everything about this felt right.

I wondered if she felt the same.

“What do you think of the show?” she asked when the fourth episode ended.

“You couldn’t tell by the way I was laughing? The mom’s hysterical. She’s so self-involved and not even really a good mother in the beginning, but somehow I can’t help but like her.”

“I know. It’s actually amazing,” she said, looking