Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Right,” Rochelle replies, fighting not to snicker. “The housemaid and the janitor, right?”
I could ignore her snide tone any other day, but not today. “Yes. Two employed people who’ve been happily married for over thirty years.”
I could mention that they were one of Ravenshoe’s lucky investors who believed in the young entrepreneur who put this town on the map, but since my parents’ happiness will swipe Rochelle’s smile from her face quicker than the knowledge they own several investment properties now in the millions, I keep tight-lipped—mostly.
“What’s your relationship status again?”
Her wrinkled face, which looks like she sucked on a lemon, tells me everything I need to know.
She’s been single longer than I’ve worked here.
“Don’t get up,” I murmur when they don’t attempt to make our split amicable. “I’ll show myself out.”
My shell is unbreakable… until Rochelle proves the Grinch isn’t a fictional villain.
6
ZANE
“They’re both white. I can’t see any difference.”
“This one is Chantilly Lace and the other is Tibetan Jasmine. There’s a noticeable difference.” When I arch my brow at my mother, she bonks my nose with a selection she could have made a month ago if she hadn’t decided to get engaged and married in under three weeks.
This wedding will set her new husband’s bank balance back a pretty penny.
Luckily he’s wealthy as fuck.
Needing to end our meeting before they convince me there’s a difference between two identical napkins, I reply, “Chantilly Lace. It goes well with the frilly, lacy thingamabob you’re putting in the middle of the table.”
“The table runners?” the wedding organizer assistant asks as she bats her lashes at me.
“Yeah. Them.”
She’s the type I’d usually go for. Busty, blonde, and with a streak of wildness in her eyes, but today, I’m not interested.
I haven’t been able to get a certain spicy little Spaniard out of my head. She’s been on my mind since I woke up to an empty bed two days ago and hasn’t left it for a second.
Not even this morning in the shower when the overly floral body wash reminded me of her perfume.
I showered only minutes after having room service bring a mug of cocoa to my room with a double serving of candy cane stirrers.
Hand stimulation was the only way I could leave my suite without a raging hard-on.
Did you know there are several spelling variations of the name Kelsey? No? I didn’t either… until I began searching for a needle in a haystack. There are twenty-four Kelseys in Ravenshoe West alone, and I have no clue if the Kelsey I’m seeking lives here or if she’s one of the millions of tourists who visit each year.
“You think the Chantilly?” asks my mother, drawing me from my thoughts. “I was leaning toward Jasmine.”
“Then go Jasmine.” It takes everything I have not to shout, It’s the same damn color, but I hold back the urge—just.
“Hmm… maybe you’re right.”
My phone buzzes as my mother places two identical napkins against the bright-red plate she chose because she’s getting married a week before Christmas.
Grateful for an out, I shake my phone to announce I’ll be taking a call outside, before I sprint for the exit.
“Bet you’re regretting not working now.” Emma riles me a second after I squash my phone to my ear. “What white is she picking this year?” She laughs when I growl. “Weddings—”
“Are the bane of my existence.”
“Continue to exist because of you,” she corrects. “And don’t be too hard on your mom. If it weren’t for her, you could have been a sleazy lawyer. Or worse…”—she pauses to build the suspense—“a stockbroker.”
As I twist to face a stockbroker firm half a block up from the wedding planners’ office, I say, “Eh. I’ve heard the pay packet is good.”
“But the hours are long and lonely.” She sighs heavily before saying, “Anyway, I wasn’t calling solely to give you an early pass from the torture I’m sure you’re facing.” She waits for the silent praise she’s confident I’m issuing her. “I was wondering if you had a chance to review the proposal I forwarded you this morning?”
Even though she can’t see me, I shake my head. “I was a little short on time this morning.” Masturbating. “Can it wait until after the wedding? Casey is about to have a coronary. The guest list blew out from fifty to two hundred overnight.”
“How does that even happen?” She stops, places the blame solely on Casey’s shoulders since news leaked about who was catering the wedding, and then says, “It could wait until after the wedding…”
I wait, certain there’s more.
I love being proven right.
“But then I’d have to reschedule your flight to…”—papers rustling sound down the line—“Avila.”
Since Emma seems to have an issue with her hearing, I speak slowly. “I… don’t… work… on… home… turf.”
“Za—”
“Goodbye, Emma.”
After waiting for a grumbled farewell, I disconnect our call, slide my phone into my pocket, and then endeavor to build the courage to return to the room that has me convinced it has to be five o’clock somewhere.