Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Maybe I’m not oblivious,” I say, straightening his tie. “But maybe I thought you were just being silly.”
“Babe.” He chuckles. “I’d never joke about that.”
My knees weaken.
“Well, hello, Ms. Willis.” A silver-haired man with a grandfatherly smile stands beside us. “I’m Myles Petterson, and it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”
I clear my throat and take his hand, giving it a gentle shake. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Petterson. Thank you so much for the invitation. That was very kind of you.” I turn to Banks, ignoring the sharp glare directed at me from across the room. “This is my fiancé, Banks Carmichael.”
Mr. Petterson’s bushy eyebrows tug together. “Banks Carmichael? You must be related to Kixx. Are you one of his sons?”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Petterson extends a hand. “Your father and brother Moss did some work for me a while back. Their craftsmanship was superb. I really enjoyed working with them.”
“I’ll be sure to tell them.” Banks smiles. “They take a lot of pride in their work.”
“That’s evident in the end product. So what do you do?”
“Cars. Classic car restoration, to be exact.”
Mr. Petterson nods. “Is that so? I bought a Dodge Charger at an auction a few years ago. It’s been sitting in my back bay under a cover since the day I brought it home. Needs tons of work, but I don’t know where to start.”
“I’d be happy to come take a look at it and give you some pointers, if you’d like.”
Mr. Petterson’s face lights up. “That would be wonderful.”
Banks chuckles. “My head mechanic and assistant both took the week off. So if you’ll give me a few weeks, that would be great.”
“Bad timing?”
“No, I’m a sucker.” Banks chuckles. “They both work their behinds off for me, so telling them they can’t go be with their families isn’t something I can do. It may be bad for business and bad for my health while they’re gone, but we all survive, and they come back happy.”
Mr. Petterson pats Banks on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Then he turns to me.
“So, Sara, how are you doing? Have you found a new job?” Mr. Petterson asks.
My chest wobbles. “Not yet. I’m in the process of moving too—talk about bad timing,” I say with a nervous laugh. “I’ll be sending more résumés out this coming week.”
“Why don’t you call me?”
I flinch. “Really?”
He smiles. “You’re bright. Talented. Creative.”
Banks squeezes my hand, sending a current of energy through me.
“I think you might just be a good fit for us,” Mr. Petterson says.
The hairs on the back of my neck stands on end, and I clench down on Banks’s hand. Before I can gather my wits and figure out what my instincts are trying to tell me, I hear his voice.
“Good evening, Sara and gentlemen,” Joshua says, his gaze burning a hole in my forehead.
Mr. Petterson hesitates and then takes a deep breath. “Mr. Eubanks, hello. I’m glad you could make it.”
“Of course,” Joshua says, his sights still on me. “I’m thrilled to be here.” His attention switches to Banks. “And you are?”
“Banks Carmichael,” he says, smoothly. “I’m Sara’s fiancé. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
I try to hide my smile.
Mr. Petterson waves a hand in the air, catching us all off guard. “I’m going to have to excuse myself. Banks, I’ll have Jennifer get you my number, and we’ll catch up on the first of the month. Does that sound good?”
“Excellent. I’ll look forward to it.”
“And Sara. Use my email,” Mr. Petterson says, smiling. “Good to see you all. Enjoy the party.”
We say our goodbyes, and I can’t help chuckling in surprise on the inside at Mr. Petterson’s snub of Joshua. Mr. Petterson truly is a respectable man.
As soon as he’s gone, the air grows tense. Banks’s arm goes around my waist again, holding me close to him.
“Sara, would you like to dance?” Banks asks, searching my eyes for a hint of how I feel.
“Yes.”
“Wait.” Joshua’s smarmy voice taints the air. “I wanted to see how you’re doing, Sara.”
I turn toward Banks. “I’m great.”
We take one step to leave when Joshua grabs my arm. I stop in my tracks and glare at him.
Banks whirls around and squares his shoulders to Joshua’s. “I highly recommend that you don’t touch her again,” Banks says, his voice low and cold.
Joshua smiles, sloshing his whiskey around his tumbler. “What is this little ruse the two of you have going on? It’s quite entertaining.”
“Excuse us,” I say, narrowing my eyes. I place a hand on Banks’s chest, urging him to go. Instead, he stays in place, his gaze glued to Joshua’s.
“You know,” Joshua says, arrogance dripping from each word. “Your job opened back up. I could probably get you in for an interview.”
Banks bristles but defers to me.
I’d like to rip him a new asshole in front of everyone at this party, but that’s unprofessional. And that’s probably exactly what Joshua is banking on.