Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
A breath escapes my lips, and I put my hand over his on my shoulder. “Wow.”
“This man was one of his first hires, and he’s telling him to find another job because we aren’t paying him enough to get his car fixed? Because we can’t move a few things around? Dad wouldn’t ever bother himself with something like that if he hadn’t walked in on me talking it out.”
“Right,” I say quietly.
“It was such a crystallizing moment,” West continues, “because it’s so clear to me that it’s the people who make the company great, but Dad thinks everything that matters is at the top. Without César, that entire department wouldn’t be what it is, the loading dock would be a disorganized mess, and shipments to stores would be disrupted. Moving his shift would prevent all of that.” West shakes his head. “Everything about a good business starts at the bottom. Anyway, that divergence in our philosophies combined with everything Dad and I had been through when I was in college… I didn’t want to stay at Weston’s anymore. But I was inspired to find out whether and how corporate culture can be changed. It’s why I decided to pursue my PhD and what ultimately sent me and my dad into estrangement.”
“It takes a lot of bravery to walk away from the security of an executive position when you’re only, what? Twenty-six?”
He exhales a sharp laugh through his nose. “Nothing about interacting with my dad ever makes me feel brave. It makes me feel placating and restrained and disgusted with myself.”
“I don’t see it that way,” I tell him. “Whatever this loophole is, it’s important enough to you to come here and do what you have to do.”
West meets my eyes, and his gaze clears and then softens. “Yeah.” His attention dips to my lips. “Thank you for reminding me.”
I take a step closer, moving into his space, and I realize the moment he registers he’d been touching me. His eyes go a little wide, and he gently moves his hand from under mine. “The only answer here is to avoid him for the rest of the trip.”
His lips curl in a surprised smile. “Oh yeah? How should I manage that?”
I think it’s because he’s shirtless and sweaty, or maybe it’s because I left my dignity along with my boob prints all over him this morning, but the words bubble right up and out of me: “We could make out the whole time.”
Coughing, West squints out to the side, farther down the row of bungalows. “You might be onto something. Jake confirmed that Alex thinks we’re full of shit.”
“That’s probably because we are full of shit.”
“Well, if he gets wind of what my dad told Forbes, he’ll figure out a way to prove it.”
I angle my eyes over his shoulder and speak of the devil. There, down the beach, is Alex. He’s too far to hear anything we’re saying, but he’s just standing there, looking up at us, watching us interact like tentative strangers having one of their first vulnerable conversations.
There’s something in Alex’s posture, some gotcha! that makes me deeply uneasy.
Without letting it show on my face that I’ve seen him, I step closer to West, hand high on his bare thigh, just below the hem of his shorts.
West’s brows disappear beneath his messy, glorious hair. “Hello.”
“Don’t look, but Alex is watching us from the beach.”
West drags his attention from my hand on his leg to my face. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. So I’m just trying to look wifey and horny for you.”
“I could go inside and shower,” he says quietly. “He’d just walk away.”
“You could.” I lick my lips, stepping between his legs, shamelessly wanting another of his libido-electrifying kisses. For as much as I dislike Alex in theory, I’m not mad about this moment. West looks like he could use a little distraction. And after we kissed the other night, I thought there’d be more opportunities. I was wrong. “Or you could just pretend to be horny for me, too.”
He stares at me, unmoving.
“Or not,” I say, smiling while inside I’m dissolving, atom by atom, in mortification.
When I try to step away, he clamps his thighs around my ribs. “Where are you going?”
“To die of shame under a rotting log somewhere.”
West laughs, low and frankly dangerous. “No, see, my only hesitation is”—he leans in, running his thumb along my lower lip—“acting was never my strong suit.”
“I was a counselor at drama camp.” I speak against the pad of his thumb. “I’ll give honest feedback.”
He laughs, his lips so close. “Thank you.”
West’s mouth brushes over mine, giving me one of those feather-soft kisses again.
“Well,” I say as we share a breath, “that wasn’t bad.”
He kisses the corner of my mouth. “Anything that could make it more convincing?”
“Maybe another? Longer this time?”
West lifts both hands now, cupping my face and leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to my mouth before he parts his lips and gently nips at my bottom one. “Longer, huh?”