Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Oh, God,” I mumble, and then Jeff takes over.
“We have a reservation for Hillcrest,” he says, and she looks down and then looks up.
“You are the first to arrive.” She grabs the menus and then looks over, tossing her blond hair over her shoulder. “Follow me.” She turns and walks down into the restaurant. Half the tables are taken, and the other half are sure to be filled with reservations. She walks us to the far right, and I see seven archways. She waits at the entrance to one, and I step in and see the table set for six in the middle and two round benches on each side. The benches with six back pillows. I sit at the far end of the bench and then look up at the hanging chandelier. The walls have candles hanging on them. Jeff sits next to me, and the blonde comes in and hands us the menus. Her smile brightens when I reach out and grab it from her. I nod my head, and she turns and walks away.
“Are you sick?” Jeff asks right away, and I look at him with my eyebrows pulled together. “She was coming on to you, and you didn’t even say anything to her. Nothing. No smirk, no smile, no how you doing? Nothing.”
I shrug, a little surprised at my own willpower, but don’t even bother to answer him. Instead, I put my menu down and look over at him, but I stop when I see the blond lady again but, this time, with someone behind her. When she moves, I finally see it’s Erin. She is standing there with her long hair loose. She is wearing another pencil skirt, but it’s white, and her top is off her shoulders with long sleeves and a light orange color. The front of the shirt is tucked in. She looks at us and then looks at the blonde and smiles. I look at her shoes, and they are strappy and high as fuck. My mouth waters. “Erin.” I hear Jeff say to her, and she walks over.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” she says, sitting on the bench in front of us and placing her beige Yves St-Laurent clutch on the table beside her. She sits right in front of me, but she hasn’t looked at me once. I’m about to say something when I hear Ryan.
“Sorry we are late,” he says, and I see that Sylvia is behind him. “My plane landed ten minutes later than we thought,” he says, getting into the bench beside Erin. He turns and smiles at her. “Did you just get here?” She nods her head, and then Sylvia sits beside Ryan.
“Saturday night. Spago. My PR team. This should be fun,” I finally say, grabbing the water glass to bring it to my lips. “Let the good times roll.”
Chapter Eight
Erin
Sitting in the back of the town car on my way to the restaurant, I try to relax. I was fine this morning, well, just a touch. When I finally looked down at my phone last night, I saw he texted me, and I saw the picture and then I wondered if he was banging that girl or if he was already done. I turned off my phone and ignored the pull to respond, and then this morning, I wanted to answer him, but instead, I ignored it. Then he called right when I was on the treadmill, and well, he gets me all riled up and angry, so I told him I had a boyfriend.
I’m so nervous he is going to bring it up at dinner that I literally think I’m going to vomit. The hostess looks me up and down and then leads me back to the table, and it must be my lucky day because it’s just Carter and Jeff. Luckily, Ryan and Sylvia get here right after, so there is no small talk.
“Saturday night. Spago. My PR team. This should be fun,” Carter says, and I look at him. All of him—the smirk is out, the fucking dimple is on point, and his eyes are ready. “Let the good times roll.”
Ryan looks at him and laughs. “I thought it would be good to touch base right before we started filming, so everyone is on the same page.”
“I think this is a great idea, so we know where everyone stands,” Jeff says. “I know that Carter and Erin spent the day working together yesterday.”
“Erin,” Ryan says to me, and I look over at him. “How do you feel it went?”
I start to think of my words, and then I look up at Carter. I think it’s the worst thing to do because he just stares at me. “It went well. At least, I think it went great. I checked his Instagram, and he gained followers after he posted the photoshoot video. Now, I have no idea about last night. I haven’t seen any pictures.”