Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I leave my phone where it is and drag my groggy self to bed. The next time I open my eyes, the clock on the nightstand reads eleven o’clock. The last time I can remember sleeping in this late was when I was in my early twenties. Those were the days when I used to go out with friends and stay up until three in the morning. I’m pretty sure I passed out before ten last night.
Work has been busy, especially since I’m being considered for a promotion. I’ve been working for the same accounting firm for the past fifteen years, and when the chance to move into a management position became available, I decided to throw my hat into the ring. It comes with more responsibility and a significant pay increase that could accelerate my retirement plan. On top of that, I’ve been spending a lot of hours at the art studio, and clearly not getting enough sleep.
I’m teaching painting lessons this afternoon, and I need to be at the studio before one, so I roll out of bed, head for the bathroom, and turn on the shower. Once I’m dressed, I make a coffee, but the cream must have gone bad, because it tastes funky. I dump it out, grab a bottle of water and a banana, and leave for the studio.
Paxton is already there by the time I arrive, which isn’t a surprise because it’s ten to one. Usually, I’m half an hour early so I have time to help set up.
“Hey! I messaged you earlier. Everything okay?” Paxton gives me a once-over.
“Oh shoot! I’m so sorry. I haven’t checked my phone at all today.” I rummage around in my purse for it but come up empty-handed. “And I don’t even have it with me. I’m a bit of a hot mess.” I set my purse down and shrug out of my coat, hanging it on a hook so I can help Paxton finish setting up.
“Late night?”
“Really early night, actually. And I slept until eleven.”
“Wow, channeling your inner teen, huh?”
“Seems that way.”
Students begin to arrive—our first class is for kids—and we spend the next hour teaching eight to ten-year-olds how to work with watercolors. After that, we have a group of seniors who are loads of fun. It’s been my side gig for a lot of years. It’s not something I’ve ever considered as a full-time job because as fun as it is, I think it would put a damper on my love of painting. But the studio is my outlet, and being here, helping people create, is my happy place.
“Want to head to Charlie’s for a bite to eat?” Paxton asks when we’re finished cleaning up.
“Sure. That sounds great.” My stomach rumbles. I haven’t eaten much apart from that banana at breakfast and a bag of chips from the vending machine in the breakroom between classes.
Paxton lives close to the studio, so we take my car to Charlie’s and settle into a booth in the back corner. I order a ginger ale and Paxton orders a glass of white wine.
“It’s Saturday. You’re not having a drink?” Paxton asks.
I shrug. “I’ve been tired lately. Don’t want to add alcohol to the mix when I’m already a yawn factory.” I cover my mouth with my hand and yawn so wide and so hard it brings tears to my eyes.
“Oooh, late night chats with Hottie McDaddy?”
“Actually.” I arch a brow.
She stops browsing the menu to look at me. “Wait. I thought you said the sexy times were over.”
“They are.” I poke at my ice cubes with my straw.
“But?” Paxton prompts.
“Queenie’s birthday is coming up, and I’m planning to fly to Seattle for the party. Jake called last night and invited me to stay at his place.”
She sets her glass down and gives me her full attention. “You mean as friends? What did you say?”
“I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea.”
“Would it really be so bad if you had one last, last roll in the hay with him?” She wiggles her fingers and smiles like a villain.
I chuckle and then sigh. “I don’t know if I could limit myself to one last roll, which is the problem. When I first met Jake, Queenie made some sort of comment about how well he and I got along, and Ryan told her that his family was already messy and not to go planting seeds. It was innocent enough, but I can’t see him being okay with it.”
“But you still want to sleep with Jake.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s a colossally bad idea to continue sleeping with Ryan’s father-in-law.”
“When you put it that way.” Paxton makes a face. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. I really would have loved another weekend of hot sex with a guy whose number I didn’t need to lose.”