Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I pucker my lips.
“Ew. Who let me buy this color?” I search the middle console for a napkin to try to blot some of the lipstick away but come up empty-handed. “It’s too late to worry about it now. Might as well forget about it.”
Ignoring the tightness in my chest, I grab my bag and step out of the car. The door squeals as I press it closed. I know. I feel ya. I don’t want to be up this early, either.
The parking lot is quiet, with only a few cars—most in the luxury price range. There is an unoccupied space between each vehicle. I can’t help but wonder if this is a rich person’s rule or a common courtesy that I don’t know.
I glance back at my little 1971 Gremlin with a white racing stripe. He might not be fancy, but he’s adorable.
“Here we go,” I say, blowing out a breath.
I step inside Tapo’s and am greeted immediately by creamy-colored walls and soft classical music. The lights are bright but warm, and the accent decor leans feminine. The vibe is ethereal but regal, and I wonder in the back of my mind how it would translate as a personal aesthetic.
“Table for one?” A pretty girl with a spattering of freckles interrupts my thoughts. “Or are you here for pickup?”
I blink. “People order pickup this early in the morning?”
She laughs. “I share that sentiment.”
“I’m here to meet someone,” I say, glancing around the restaurant for Gannon. “I don’t see him, though.”
“Are you looking for Mr. Brewer?”
“Yes, I am.”
“He said that he might have company today. Right this way.”
He said he might have company? Did he think I wouldn’t show up?
We wind our way through the building, passing trays of pastries and a glass case of baked goods. The closer we get to Gannon, the more nervous I get. My palms sweat as I clench my bag for dear life.
“Can I ask you a question?” I say, my voice low.
She smiles. “Of course.”
“Does Mr. Brewer come here often?”
“A few days a week, I’d say. I don’t usually work this early, but the other girls say he’s a regular.”
“Does he have a lot of business meetings this early?” I pry.
“Funnily enough, you are the first person we can remember ever joining him. It’s a running joke between us. How is a man that attractive always alone? It’s criminal.”
We laugh, and I play it off. But inside, I’m kicking my feet. It’s a boost of confidence to know I’m the only person, let alone the only woman, to join him here.
I’m not sure what that means, but I’ll take it.
“If he mentions me, I’m single,” she whispers, stopping next to a column. “There he is. Try not to drool.”
I follow her line of sight, nearly tripping over my own feet. “Wow.”
“I know.” She giggles. “Good luck.”
“Tha—yeah,” I say as I feast my eyes on Gannon. I’m stumbling over my words already. Fabulous.
He sits at a table with a coffee cup in front of him. His long legs are clad in black jeans, and a black T-shirt hugs his torso like a second skin. It teases the sexy line from his shoulder to his neck and highlights how fit the man is. An olive-colored jacket hangs on the back of a chair next to him. White sneakers give the look a hot millennial CEO at the top, sexy-as-sin playboy at the bottom vibe, and I am here for it.
He looks up from an actual newspaper, and the corner of his lip twitches beneath a dusting of scruff.
My God.
His brows lift slowly. “You came.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?” I ask.
He stands quickly and pulls out my chair.
“Thank you,” I say, sitting down.
He resumes his place across the table, leaving me behind in a cloud of his delicious cologne.
“I didn’t know they still print newspapers,” I say, setting my purse on the vacant chair to my right.
“It would be much cheaper to read the news online, but I abhor the thought of a world with no tangible words.”
Okay, that’s hot as hell.
A server approaches us out of thin air with a carafe of coffee in hand. “Coffee for you, miss?”
“Yes, that would be great. Thank you … Joseph,” I say, reading his name tag.
He pours me a cup, leaves a menu, and promises to return.
“I figured a matcha latte was out of the question,” I say, earning the smallest sparkle in Gannon’s eyes. “Thank you for agreeing to see me this morning.”
His lips twitch. “You’re down to four minutes. You better get talking.”
“Why are you always so grumpy?”
“I’m not grumpy. I’m focused.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to determine whether he’s serious about the five-minute thing. There’s no way to be sure. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t put it past him. So I take a sip of my coffee, beg the caffeine to hit fast and hard, and pull a folder from my bag.