Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
"Like what?" We don't know sex either. We're too busy in law school. We're too obsessed with rules. Are we all into BDSM, or just those of us who don't know how to let go?
"A gentleman who follows the rules of polite society."
"A gentleman, really?" I ask.
She motions to my linen shirt. "Where's the opposition?"
How about I tie you to my bed, and we see how much of a gentleman I really am? "My parents helped with the down payment, but the mortgage is mine." I can just afford it on my current salary. But that's what everyone said to do. Buy the second home. Stretch a little while interest rates are low. "Do you need to know the exact number?"
"No. I get it. I'm being rude." She mimes zipping her lips.
"I don't mind," I say. It feels like home, actually. Well, like Dad. He's overly blunt. Mom is the one with manners.
And, Dad, well—
He has this need to prove himself. One I inherited. He grew up with nothing, so now he wants everything.
I grew up with everything, so now, I'm desperate to prove I deserve everything, to prove I can get everything on my own.
I am my father's son.
Desperate to stay in control and completely unwilling to let on.
Do I fool people as poorly as he does?
"Well…" Daphne raises a brow. "How much—" She motions toward the pool. "Or were you teasing?"
I'll tease you a hell of a lot better than that. No. No sex. Coffee. "What sort of coffee?" It sounds like the non sequitur it is.
She blinks, not at all believing the sudden change of subject. "What do you have?"
Something Cassie requested. Plus, a "neutral" blend she recommended for guests. And a decaf. I find the coffee on the top shelf, far above the rows of tea, and let Daphne decide.
She smiles at the sight of the bag. "You keep your sister's favorite beans here. That's sweet. But what is that—" She motions to the other two bags. "Oh. The ex-girlfriend?"
I shake my head. Maddie was a tea drinker, the same as I am. Another way we made sense.
"Other guests? I get it." She smiles and motions zipping her lips. "I won't say anything to Cass. As long as you don't say anything."
"Say what?" She did mention sex. I try to forget the context. I grab the beans and set them on the counter. I fill the electric kettle and set it to two hundred degrees.
Daphne stops me. "Actually, Cass is going to want to stop at her favorite place. She can't go four days without an iced macadamia nut milk latte."
That is true, but I need a distraction. Any distraction. "Do both."
Daphne bites her lip. Her blue eyes brighten. Her cheeks flush. This time, it isn't embarrassment or nerves. It's a look I know. I shouldn't, but I really, really want to. "Could I?"
"Could anyone do something as ill-considered as drinking too much coffee?"
A laugh spills from her lips. A big, hearty thing that makes my heart thud against my chest. "Excuse me, is Jackson Steele lecturing me on giving in to temptation?"
"I don't hear a lecture."
"The man who wears linen every day."
"Every weekend day," I say.
"Who doesn't own a single color."
"Navy is a color." I motion to my slacks.
"Navy is a neutral! And you are proving my point. You are the last person who I would ask for help with fun."
Right. Of course.
It's a good thing she sees me this way. I don't want her to think yes, Jackson, the perfect person to fuck in Las Vegas.
I want her to see me as a fussy old bore.
No. I should want that.
Only I don't.
"Sorry." She notices the frustration in my expression. "That was rude, wasn't it? I think you're right. I haven't had enough coffee. My brain isn't working well. Go ahead."
"Sure." I focus on grinding the beans, filling the French press, pouring the water.
She waits and watches, quiet for a moment. "You look good in neutrals. It just feels weird, stepping into here. Like I somehow tumbled out of the Sex and the City set onto the Succession one."
What? Those are TV shows. I know that much. And they both take place in New York. I know that too. "Aren't they set in the same place?"
"Yet they're in totally different worlds."
My brow knits. What the fuck is she talking about? Maybe it's better I don't know. I've seen bits and pieces of Sex and the City. Snippets while a girlfriend or sister was watching the show. I don't know it intimately, but I know one other thing: it delivers on the sex in the title.
Which means I shouldn't discuss it with her.
"I'm being rude again, aren't I?" She leans against the counter. "Let me think of a way to explain it without a reference. You're like the characters on Succession. You have this old-money vibe to you. Even though you're a West Coast lawyer. I keep thinking I'm about to walk into a study filled with scotch and leather and… is there a sort of wood that's masculine? Or is it all masculine? Since it's wood." She looks around the space. "How do you keep it this clean? Do you have help?"