Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 146548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Farrow presses a burning kiss to my shoulder blade. And as his other hand descends to a place of need and want, his mouth travels to my ear. In my fantasy, I never hear what he whispers. He knows this is what I wouldn’t let myself dream of.
And as he kisses the nape of my neck, the line of my jaw, I wait and wait, and softly, so damn softly and huskily, Farrow whispers, “I love you.”
Light bursts in me, and I spin on him, our hands instantly grip each other in starved yearning. We kiss like we haven’t kissed in eons. Heat blistered and raw, we wrestle in the shower for the lead.
And goddamn, we’re both smiling.
39
MAXIMOFF HALE
News of our engagement has spread like a tornado ripping through flatlands. No houses destroyed yet, but damage control mode is still alive. Just as a precaution.
Too many tabloids, magazines, entertainment sites have contacted our reps. Inquiring about front-page spreads, interviews, photo ops. Everyone is seeking the first exclusive pictures, videos, anything.
And they’ve all received the same automatic reply from our publicist:
Maximoff & Farrow are enjoying their engagement and would like to remain private at this time. Thank you for understanding.
I’m currently focused on rebuilding strength in my right shoulder. All without overexerting, without pushing too far and tearing my body to fucking pieces.
Hence, working out with my childhood crush, my bodyguard, my doctor, my fiancé—all Farrow Redford Keene.
He has strike pads on both of his hands, hoisting them up to me. I jab the pad with my left fist, protected by a red boxing glove.
Sun shines through the full-length glass windows in Uncle Ryke’s gym. Heating the space. It’s pretty much why I’m sweating. Because there’s no way my slow pace alone could warrant me soaking through my shirt.
“How did that feel?” Farrow asks me as I gear up to do a right cross.
“Fine.” I think I can try harder without killing my muscle. I go for a right cross with my right arm…and I end up lightly tapping the pad. Listening to my body. The stretch alone pulls my tendons taut.
“Sore?” he asks.
“Not at all,” I say, sarcasm thick. “I could without a doubt take you in a boxing ring. Let’s go, right now.”
“That’s an adorable fantasy,” Farrow says.
I growl into a groan.
Farrow smiles, too amused. “How about we come back to reality?” He motions me to ready myself. “Put your gloves up to your chin.”
I follow the instruction, and Farrow spreads out the strike pads for me to do a hook combination. Before I even swing, the glass door opens.
I drop my arms, and we both turn to see my little brother. Xander is in gym shorts and a T-shirt that says Winter is Coming. Shock coils in me—surprised he’s here.
“Hey,” Xander says, hair hanging in his eyes. “I got your text.”
He almost never works out with me. But every time I’m at the gym, I try to always invite him along. He usually brushes it off. Him, putting in this effort, whether it’s for me or himself, I don’t care. He’s here.
That’s all that matters.
“You’re here to work out?” I ask him.
“I mean…yeah,” he says. His eyes dance across the equipment. “What do you suggest?”
“You should start on the bag,” Farrow tells him, nodding to the boxing bag that my uncle hung up a couple weeks ago. “Here…” Farrow takes off his pads and grabs a pair of black cloth wraps that hang on the wall. “I’ll wrap your hands.”
Xander follows Farrow’s instructions to hold out his hands. Palms down, and Farrow crisscrosses the wrap, weaving the cloth between his fingers.
I swing my right arm in a pendulum stretch while I wait.
My little brother glances from Farrow to me. “So have you guys decided on when you’re having the wedding?”
Farrow eyes lift to me and then his brows rise. “We have.”
“We’re doing a long engagement,” I tell Xander.
We discussed it at length, and it seems like the best idea to wait for the public and media attention to die down before we have a wedding. There will still be chaos, but I figure if we give it some time, there’s a greater chance someone else in my family will take the spotlight for a little while. I just would really love a wedding that isn’t crashed by helicopters and drones.
“I figured,” Xander replies.
Farrow finishes with his hand wraps and then tosses a pair of boxing gloves to him. “We’ll start with an easy combination.”
I watch as my future husband teaches my little brother how to box. He keeps glancing at me, a smile inching across his mouth. He knows how much I love him. How much I love this. And I think about what Farrow once told me.
It’s the little things.
It really is.
40
FARROW KEENE
The We Are Calloway wrap party is held at an artsy studio in Center City, and I’ve been to one of these before on Lily’s security detail. Never as Maximoff’s bodyguard. And definitely not as a face featured in the docuseries. This is new for me, and I keep catching myself taking in this different vantage point.