Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
I’m dismissed in a daze, and the HR woman waits for me in the hall, then takes me to her office, and we review the details. My flight to New York is Friday night. The company will cover the lease here for three months, as per the contract, and 24News will help me find a new place in the city.
That’s all.
Like a zombie, I walk to my desk, sink onto the chair, and stare out the window.
I’m not daydreaming this time.
I’m freaking out.
On the one hand, this is great news. On the other, this is also awful.
There will be no more Jude after this week. There won’t be any more weeks to get through. There won’t be any merit badges to earn.
There won’t be a London romance.
And I won’t fall in love for the first time in my life.
Instead, I’ll be gone.
Maybe there’s one silver lining, though.
23
AN ANALYSIS OF PET NAMES
Jude
I stare at my phone during a break in rehearsal, like I can will a reply from TJ through sheer mind power.
Unfortunately, the trick doesn’t work, and it’s been three hours. He hasn’t responded to the text I sent this afternoon. Maybe I should have been more . . . definitive. More demonstrative?
But I’m not keen on relationships, and I’ve no fucking clue what’s next, so I figured a sexy, Thanks for last night, stud was a good jumping-off point.
Into what, though?
Into more epic, mind-bending, knee-weakening sex?
That was so much more than sex, you daft idiot.
“All right, everyone ready to tackle scenes five and six?” the director calls out, and I tear my gaze away from my phone, powering it off as I return to the studio. This is where my focus should be.
Not on my roommate.
I give robots and scientists my all for the next few hours, loving every second of rehearsal.
When seven rolls around, my phone takes pity on me. Right as I leave the rehearsal studio and hit the pavement, a message flashes across my screen.
TJ: Hey . . . any chance you’d want to get a beer at The Duck’s Nipple? We never made it to that place, and I figure we should.
That’s oddly . . . unspecific. Is this a post-sex discussion? A post-sex date? Beer with the roomie? I can’t tell, but saying we never made it to that place sounds like he’s ending us before we start.
But we can’t really start anything. And what would we start anyway? More sex? That feels insanely risky because last night was already so much more than sex.
Except, risks are in my nature. My job is the definition of risk. I want another night with him. And then more after that.
Call me greedy.
I write back immediately, and we make plans to meet in thirty minutes.
Twenty-nine minutes later, I turn off Rob Lowe and walk into the bar, nerves racing in my chest. Telling myself I’m in a play where I’m a fighter pilot—the epitome of cool.
Settle down, nerves. Just tell the man you want more.
I find TJ at a booth. He catches my attention with a quick wave. I stride over to him. Do we hug? Kiss? Shake hands?
But TJ answers that for me when he slides out of the booth, stands, and yanks me in for a hug. It’s not dude style. It’s definitely I-know-what-you-look-like-naked style, and his aftershave enhances it.
That potent woodsy scent, chased with a hint of soap, smells like a secret he’s wearing just for me. I dip my nose, drag in a whiff of him, and I’m instantly aroused.
That’s not surprising since the scent has turned me on since I first smelled it.
But I’m also feeling . . . a little floaty—a little warm. Like I want to get close to him. Snuggle up against him, run my fingers through his hair, kiss him at the bar like he’s mine.
“Mmm,” he murmurs.
Yes, he did this on purpose, slapping on that aftershave.
And I’m caught up in him. I also now know what tonight is—a date.
But when he takes a seat and I sit across from him, he looks like he’s got something on his mind. Something big. “What’s going on?”
TJ doesn’t answer at first. Because, of course, he doesn’t. He just seems to weigh the question, stroking his beard, sighing heavily, but maybe happily too?
“So, this is kind of crazy,” he begins, and holy fuck.
Is he going to ask me to keep this up? Screw the risks. I’m all in. “Yes. Just yes.”
He laughs. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“Right, sorry.”
“So, the thing is,” he says, and I wince. This is bad news. “I just got a promotion.”
“Oh, that’s great. Congratulations,” I say, still trying to figure out what’s happening on this maybe-date.
His gaze levels mine, and before he speaks, I see the truth in his eyes. I won’t like what he’s going to say. “It’s in New York, Jude. They’re sending me back to New York. Even if I had a choice, and I don’t, they decided to freelance my beat here. It’s both a great opportunity and the only opportunity.”