Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“A bet is a bet,” he said, shrugging. “If you don’t want to take it—”
“Ugh,” I cut him off. “I’m in. I’m going to win anyway,” I said, eying my overflowing inbox.
“We’ll see,” he said, glancing at his phone. “Want to say it at the same time?”
“Sure.”
“Three, two…” Weston counted us down. “One.”
“Twelve-hundred and thirty-seven,” I said at the exact same time Weston said, “Fourteen-hundred and eighty-six.”
I gaped at his email number. “What?” I shook my head. “There is no way that is all from the past two days we’ve been out.”
He turned his phone toward me, leaning up in his seat so he could show me. I noted the evidence, then slammed back in my seat with a heavy dose of pout.
“You always win,” I said, a total sore-sport. I was sure I had him that time.
Weston chuckled, pocketing his phone as he stood up to lean over my desk. “Not always,” he said, resting his palms on my desk while he looked down at me. “But I’m surprised you have that many emails from only being gone two days.”
“That’s not counting the endless amount of ad copy waiting for approval in my Dropbox.”
“Looks like my assistant needs her own assistant,” he said.
“You think so?” I asked, honestly wanting his opinion.
I loved my new position, it was what I’d always dreamed of during college while I worked toward my degree…but I was currently managing two roles. Weston’s personal assistant and the head of his marketing firm. I didn’t want to split myself too much, but I also knew I couldn’t be his personal assistant forever.
“Trust me,” he said. “Having a good personal assistant is a lifesaver.” He winked at me before heading toward my door.
I laughed, shaking my head. “I’ll start looking.”
“Good idea,” he said, tapping my door as he swung it closed behind him. He paused before he got it all the way shut. “And good luck.”
It was after eight p.m. by the time I finished responding to all the emails and filtering through the ad copy and the rest of the tasks in my Dropbox. Add on top of that smoothing out Weston’s schedule to clear a path for some much-needed charity work, and I was wrecked, but satisfied in way that only a good, hard day’s work could do.
After powering down, I left the office with nothing but a hot bubble bath and a good book on my mind. Asher’s fiancé Daisy had just released a book, and I was more than ready to escape into it for an hour or two, but I stopped outside my door, shock filtering through me when I spotted a blue box siting on my welcome mat.
I scooped up the box, heading inside and setting it on the kitchen counter. There was a small card, and I opened it quickly.
So you know that you always win too
—W
What in the world?
I popped the lid on the box, and smiled so hard my cheeks hurt. Nestled inside the blue box was a dozen of the cookies I loved from New York.
“That man,” I said out loud, shaking my head before grabbing a cookie and unwrapping it as quickly as possible. I took a bite and moaned around the flavors.
Definitely a winner.
WESTON
I heard Brynn’s laughter before I’d even reached her door, and paused to check my watch. It was after seven p.m., and everyone else had gone home for the day. Naturally, Brynn had stayed late to continue working, which meant I stayed late too. It was just as easy to answer emails and have conference calls from here as it was at my normal offices. And I wanted to make sure she was all packed and ready for our trip to Iceland in a few of days—
I scowled as I heard a male voice coming from her office.
“I’m serious,” the guy said. “You would be stunning in these. You should put yourself in the campaign.”
She laughed again, and I knew now what had given me pause a second ago, it wasn’t her normal, unrestrained laugh. It was her I’m being polite laugh that bordered on nervous.
“I prefer to be on this side of things,” she said.
“Maybe you can tell me more about that over dinner? We could take this interview out—”
“Thank you, but I’ll have to pass,” she cut him off, which was a fucking good thing because adrenaline was surging through my veins and I had about two more seconds before I was going to bust into her office and throw the asshole out.
Maybe he wasn’t an asshole, but he was hitting on my—
Fuck, my nothing. Brynn didn’t belong to me, she was perfectly capable of dating anyone she wanted to. I certainly had over the years.
God, I was a dick sometimes.
Did that stop me from knocking on her partially opened door just enough for it to swing fully open? Nope. Not at all.