Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
As I encourage them to join the meet and greet inside, I focus on the creepy delivery driver, asking him to leave the final bags and boxes just inside rather than let him go deeper into the house. I have to sign for the delivery, and when I finally close the door at his back, I’m relieved beyond belief and surprised to find that all the shopping has all been taken to the kitchen and dealt with.
And here I was thinking that I was going to need to step up and take care of these ten men.
I guess unpacking heavy shopping is something they’re happy to do. I wonder if they’ll be interested in meeting our huge catering needs or handling the cleaning up after. Or maybe Kirsty has arranged for a chef and a maid to handle those parts. I should call to find out the necessary details. The absence of any kind of summary of what’s going to happen isn’t exactly enhancing my professional appearance.
I bite my lip, watching Russell empty some chips into a bowl, and Jimmy twist the top off a bottle of beer. Stefan already has a glass of champagne, and Clay is too busy laughing with Carson to bother with a drink.
It feels awkward to interpret the fledgling bromances that are forming before my very eyes, but I don’t have to because Gabe glances away from Theron and notices I’m standing at a distance from the group and immediately seeks to rectify the situation.
“Allie, what are you drinking?”
“I think I should stick to juice,” I say. “And get started on what we’re here for.”
“All work and no play makes Allie a…” Jonas sings, getting interrupted by a punch on the shoulder from Jimmy.
“Leave the girl alone. She’s got business here. We’re the ones who are here to party.”
“How about a compromise?” Oliver pours half a glass of champagne and tops it with orange juice. He holds it out to me across the counter and, rather than object and cause a disagreement, I decide to accept. A small mimosa isn’t going to hurt. In fact, it might help ease out some of the tension from my shoulders and the nerves from my belly.
“Thanks. This is perfect.”
“Point one to Oliver,” Carson says, nodding his head in a way that suggests he’s confirmed something in his mind.
“Who’s keeping score, and what’s the criteria?” Russell asks, squaring his shoulders, ready for competition.
“No one’s keeping score.” Stefan raises his free hand to emphasize, and a murmur spreads through the group. I frown, wondering what I missed, but no one says anything else.
“Who's ready for a swim?” Tom is closest to the doors, and when Theron makes an approving whoop, Tom reaches for the handle, sliding the doors across the entire expanse of the back of the house, bringing the warmth of the air outside streaming in.
Tom, Jonas, Jimmy, Theron, and Gabe waste no time stripping off their t-shirts as I step into the sunshine, squinting my eyes against the glare and absorbing the warmth of the sun on my skin. They’re all big men. Young, strong, and handsome. I’ve never seen so many gorgeous specimens in one place, certainly never this close. It’s disarming in a way that surprises me. I didn’t think I’d feel heat spread through me just from looking at their half-naked bodies. I thought I had more control than that.
They jump into the pool like excited ten-year-olds, creating a curtain of splashing water that only just misses me.
They duck under the water, rising with glistening hair and rivulets of water cascading over their tan skin and running between their gorgeous pecs. Oh, lord. For a moment, my mind goes completely blank.
“Are you enjoying the view?” Oliver says from beside me, startling me. The man moves with the grace and stealth of a cat.
“What?”
“The ocean.”
I cast a sideways glance at him and catch the slight curve of his lips. That wasn’t what he meant at all.
“It’s my favorite thing to look at.” I arch a brow, making it clear I’m not getting drawn into the innuendo. “The waves are spectacular.”
“Spectacular huh?”
“You don’t enjoy looking at the ocean?” I ask.
Oliver slides his hands into the pockets of his slacks and folds his lips between his teeth. “I’m more of a mountain man myself.”
“Don’t mind Oliver.” Stefan punches his friend on the shoulder. “He has a dry sense of humor that not everyone gets.”
Oliver snorts, rubbing his smooth chin. “Thanks for explaining that to Allie, but I think she gets me just fine.”
“No problem.” Stefan widens his stance and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m going to go find a room upstairs and get changed.”
“I’m at the end of the hallway,” I say. “You can take any of the others.”
“Great, thanks.” He touches my arm gently as he passes and slaps Oliver hard on the back, and I realize why the recruiter gravitated toward men who know each other for this article. There’s already a camaraderie in the group that wouldn’t normally be present if they were all strangers. I search out Russell and Tom, the only pair who don’t have a buddy. Tom is smiling and laughing with Jonas, but Russell has kept to himself and is observing the group as though he’s the one responsible for sizing them all up for risk. He’s taken a seat on one of the comfortable-looking rattan sofas with thick cream cushions that are dotted around the pool. But even though he’s leaning back and has his legs spread wide, there is something closed about his body language.