Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“You’re the boss,” he says, and we take the next thirty minutes to say our goodbyes and make our way out to the valet.
We’re quiet as we wait for his car, and the whole time, I can’t get my dad’s last shot out of my head. We’ll find someone suitable.
As if Drew would be an unsuitable match? Why? Because he’s not as wealthy as my father? I hate to break it to him, but there are very few people in the world as well off as he is. If that’s what he wants me to find, we’re both going to be horribly disappointed.
We’re still quiet in the car as Drew pulls onto the interstate.
“Do you want to tell me what happened during that dance?” he finally asks.
“Felix got too confident in his influence with my father and threatened me with poverty and homelessness. Not that my father has any say in such things because he didn’t buy my home, and I’ve amassed wealth on my own, but the fact that he mentioned Caleb, that my son’s name crossed his lips, was too much for me to stay quiet about. I just lost my shit.”
I see Drew’s hands tighten on the steering wheel in temper. “I should have punched the fucker.”
“I should have punched the fucker,” I reply. “Hopefully, he’s gone for good now. I’m just tired.”
“You put on quite a show.”
My head whips around, and I stare at Drew in surprise. “What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I said. It’s impressive to watch you work a room. You know everyone’s names and details about them and then bring it up in conversation.”
“I was trained from a young age to be very good at socializing.”
“The training worked.”
“I hate it.”
Now he glances my way in surprise. “Why?”
“It’s exhausting. I’m not an extrovert. I like quiet, and I like to be by myself. I don’t want all the noise, all the questions, all the prying eyes. I’m used to it, but that doesn’t mean that it’s fun for me.”
“Fascinating,” he murmurs, and I settle back against the leather seat to watch the city lights fly by as he drives me home.
When he pulls up to a stop in front of my door, I move to get out of the car, but he holds up a hand.
“Wait.”
He doesn’t wait to see if I followed his order before he gets out of the vehicle and walks around to open my door.
That should have irritated me, but all it did was make my core tighten in the most delicious way.
Drew holds his hand out for mine and helps me out of the vehicle, then walks me to the front door.
“Thanks for escorting me tonight.”
His lips twitch as he places his hand on the door and leans into me. “You’re welcome. I actually had a really good time.”
Holy baby Jesus, he’s going to kiss me.
“You don’t have to,” I blurt out, and he cocks an eyebrow.
“Have to what?”
“Kiss me.”
Those lips, those sexy as sin lips, tip up on one side in a cocky grin, and without a word, he dips his head down and touches those lips to mine. He just presses them there, chastely, and then in the span of a nanosecond, the kiss warms up.
I open up to him, and his hands are suddenly cupping my face as he kisses me urgently, hungrily, and presses my back to the door.
My head spins. I want him to boost me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist and lose myself in him.
And then my wits return to me, and I press my hand to his chest.
That’s all it takes to have him lift his head away and stare down at me, breathing as hard as I am.
“Do I need to apologize?” he asks.
“I hope you don’t,” I reply with a small laugh. I can’t resist reaching up to cup his cheek. “That was really…good.”
He nods, that cocky grin still on his ridiculously divine face, and waits while I unlock the door and disarm the alarm system.
“Have a good night, Drew. Drive safe.”
“Good night.”
I smile and close the door. It’s a few minutes until I hear his vehicle start and head down the driveway.
Leaning against the door, I take a long, deep breath.
Holy shit, Drew Montgomery can kiss.
Rome: Sorry, can’t make the game today. Work complications. I’ll come see Caleb later.
I sigh as I read the message from my brother, send a quick reply, and toss my phone into my handbag. Caleb is running on the field, kicking the ball and pointing at one of the other kids. He obviously wants to pass to the other boy.
“You’ve got this, Caleb!” I yell out and clap my hands. It’s chilly this morning, but it’s November in Seattle, so that’s a given.
I’m just grateful that it’s not raining.