Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
"My referral?" His grin grew strained.
"New volunteers require a personal referral from someone inside the organization." I kept my voice mild, as if I wasn’t handing him a noose, certain that he would use it to hang himself.
His eyes darted to each side like ping-pong balls. I knew he had a referral. He had to have. Otherwise, he wouldn't have gotten through the gate, wouldn't have a name sticker, which was currently affixed to the front of his workout shorts.
"Oh." He looked around, as if for rescue. I tilted my head and pinned him in place with my gaze, my suspicion growing the longer he wrestled with the question. He swallowed, and the bulge of his Adam's apple moved painfully across the tight stretch of his neck. By the time his mouth finally worked open, I was ready to crawl into his throat and pull the words out. "Jillian Sharp."
I should have known, should have expected the name. A handsome stranger at HYA, tripping over himself to make my acquaintance, with every firm muscle on full display for my eyes. I smiled. "Jillian," I drawled. "What a pleasant surprise." I studied his face, a handsome canvas that looked as if he might vomit in the closest trashcan. "You seem like a nice guy, Billy. Don't take it personally that we can’t, and will never be, friends.”
His brow knitted. "Never?"
I chuckled. "Never." I moved around him and toward the walk-in cooler. A final thought came to mind, and I spun, pointing a finger at him. “Oh Billy?"
"Yes?" he asked weakly.
"Don't hurt these kids. They fall in love easily. I don't give a damn if you stay or go, but don't hurt them." I stared him down until he nodded, held the eye contact until I was sure he understood, then I pulled open the door to the cooler and stepped in.
Chapter 12
Three months after our first official date, I ran my hands lightly through Brant's hair, his steady breathing forecasting a better night of sleep than I would be getting. He was beautiful at rest. The thick brush of his lashes. The bones of his face that created the perfect canvas. Brilliance and beauty all rolled into one.
I didn't understand why I was his first relationship. Once he completed his journey into manhood, why had he continued to use escorts for sex? Why didn’t he have any friends, any real ties to anyone other than his parents and Jillian? It didn't make sense, especially because he seemed custom-built for a relationship.
He wasn't perfect. I'd found some flaws. He got distracted, didn't always listen to conversations, or plans, had a memory that would qualify him for pharmaceutical help. Just last week, he’d missed another date. Just hadn't shown up at all, his cell phone going unanswered until the next morning, when he provided a weak excuse about falling asleep at his desk. A different man, I would have suspected of cheating. But Brant made it clear early on where his focus lied. Work and me. Nothing else, no one else. The man's dedication was impressive, might have even been alarming, had I not been gunning for a relationship with both throttles wide open. I had no other men waiting in my wings. I’d ended any casual flings after our first real date. Every tool in his shed was superior by two to any other suitor. And my interest had been heightened by the fact that his aunt would pay seven figures just to keep me away.
I loved that he was different than the men of my past. He didn't have the cloak of aristocracy, wasn’t aloof or snooty, and didn’t care if we played by society's rules or wrote our own. In three months together, we had created an igloo of sorts in San Francisco society. Our relationship was a haven of two, a place where I felt comfortable saying 'screw it.' My world was expanding, my boundaries blurring, and I was moving in the right direction toward happiness. Brant, in his oblivion to anything but work and us, was pulling me there.
Love? The word hadn't been verbalized yet, but it was coming. In our eyes, touches, in the affection. But both of us were cautious, guarding our virgin hearts with ineffective hands. I kept reminding myself that it had only been three months since I’d finally returned his call and we’d both dove headfirst into this relationship.
I rolled to the side, breaking the view of his beautiful profile and turned around until my body fit into the curve of his, his arm tightening around me as he sighed into the back of my neck.
It didn’t make sense. He was too perfect. How was I the first woman to tie him down?
In the morning, we were driving two hours up the coast to meet his parents. Maybe they were the reason my perfect boyfriend was still a bachelor. Maybe they were satanic and would ask for a sample of my skin. Maybe they were doomsday preppers who would teach me to can vegetables and show me their collection of guns. Brant didn't say much about them, his primary point of contact being Jillian. The internet provided even less. But maybe they were the reason for his singledom. I pressed a soft kiss to Brant's forearm and tried to go to sleep.