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

didn’t land steadily on the ground, but I managed to right myself quickly and head to the bathroom. When I returned with a wet washcloth and some tissues, Ransom was already sitting up, pinching his nose. I was caught in some sort of mental purgatory, unsure of whether I should help clean him up because I was to blame for the bleeding or just hand him the stuff I’d brought and let him do it himself because…well, it was someone else’s blood. Instead, I just stared for a little too long without doing anything.

“Can I have that?” Ransom reached out to take the washcloth from me so he could wipe his face. Then he took the tissues and pinched his nose before putting them in his nostrils.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

And even though Ransom said, “Do you always laugh at the people you physically assault?” he was laughing too.

“Don’t laugh. You’ll make it bleed again,” I said, but it only made both of us laugh harder. “You gonna tell people you got hit with a door again?” I teased.

“Nope. I’m gonna tell people you punched me in the face.”

“I’m not sure who that looks worse for, you or me.”

He seemed to consider my comment thoroughly. “Good point. I’ll buy you a new washcloth too. And some new sheets,” he added, looking at the spots of red that had peppered the gray-and-white-striped fabric.

“Thanks, but I was the one who punched you, so it’s not really fair to have you buy all that. Four hundred thread-count organic Egyptian cotton sheet sets can be pricey.”

“Organic sheets? It’s not like you’re eating them.” Ransom’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head, and I tried to keep a straight face.

But eventually, after he rubbed his forehead and asked how much I thought it would be, I told him I was kidding. “Not about them being organic Egyptian cotton, but about you buying me a new set. I’ll throw them in the wash. It’s not like I’m hosting any social events anytime soon where I’ll need to show off my bed.”

“Will you be hosting events where you’ll need to show off your bed at some point?”

I didn’t know Ransom well enough to tell whether he was messing with me, so I needed to set him straight. “I don’t need money so badly that I need to run a brothel out of my apartment, Ransom!”

“That’s good to know,” he said dryly, “because I definitely would’ve appreciated a heads-up on that before I fell asleep here.”

The door buzzer sounded, and as I headed over toward the speaker, I said, “Must be one of the clients.”

Ransom shivered dramatically before heading into the bathroom.

“Who is it?” I asked into the intercom.

“Delivery for Taylor Peterson.”

I buzzed them in and then ran to my room to put a bra on. It was bad enough I was in these ridiculous pajamas. I couldn’t answer the door with my nipples popping through my shirt.

But apparently I could have my boobs out in front of Ransom, because right as I was pulling off my shirt to put on my bra, he exited the bathroom.

“I guess I’m gonna get go— Oh, God. Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

I pulled on my bra as quickly as I could because Ransom was still standing there looking at me. He wasn’t staring at them, exactly. It was more of a deer-caught-in-boob-headlights look. He seemed to be putting a lot of effort into focusing on my eyes, which only made the situation more awkward.

When I heard a knock at the door, I grabbed my shirt. “Can you get that? I’ll be out in a sec.”

Ransom exited my room robotically without saying anything and closed the door behind him.

I pulled my shirt on, and when I entered the living room, I found two delivery men in my apartment. They’d already put several large boxes on the floor and were standing with a clipboard.

“We just need you to sign this, and then we’ll bring the rest up.”

“The rest?” I asked, taking the pen from him.

“Yeah, there’s a four-piece bedroom set, a couch, and a chair. Doesn’t exactly fit in these boxes.”

“Oh my God.”

He looked quizzically at me. “Didn’t you order this stuff?”

“No, actually…” I muttered slowly. “I didn’t order any of it.”

“I’m confused.”

“Me too,” Ransom chimed in.

“So are we getting the rest of the stuff or no?” the delivery guy asked me.

“Yes, sorry. You can get the rest. Thank you.”

Once both of the guys had left the apartment, Ransom said, “I’m still confused.”

“They’re gifts from my mom,” I said with a sigh. I knew I sounded unappreciative, but I was more embarrassed than anything else. “I’d told my mom I didn’t want her help—or more specifically, Joe’s help—but in typical Adeline style, she couldn’t resist.”

Ransom gave me a tight-lipped smile that made me think he was trying to hold back a laugh. “Sounds like a real asshole.”

“Shut up,” I said, smiling now too. I punched him in the arm, and he moved backward and began rubbing his arm and wincing.

“Well, I was gonna offer to put some of this together for you, but since you’ve now hit me twice this morning, I’m worried for my safety if I stay any longer.”

“You were gonna put it together for me?” I couldn’t hide my excitement because fuck if I wanted to try to assemble all this. I didn’t even know if I could assemble all this.

“I was thinking about it.”

The delivery guys came in and set the couch down in the middle of the living room.

“Then I was thinking about making you breakfast,” I told him with a smile.

R A N S O M

Apparently Taylor had been kidding about making breakfast.

She’d realized quickly that the only things she had to offer that could’ve counted as a breakfast food were two pieces of bread and some peanut butter, so she ran out to grab something to bring back for us. But that was over an hour ago.

This neighborhood wasn’t