Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
I nearly choked on air. “That sounds less like an embarrassing moment and more like a wet dream.”
“Oh, it was pretty much both. Except I wasn’t dreaming. I was accepting an award for one of my books at the GLAAD Awards, and he was a presenter. He was onstage, standing by the podium, when I’m walking toward him and trip on literally nothing. I fall forward but in the weirdest way possible, right down on my knees. The momentum pushes my face directly into Ryan’s crotch. His instant reaction is to reach down and block me, but instead, his hands end up on the back of my head and lock me there for a few seconds, which felt like an entire eternity.
“Of course, the entire room broke out into raucous laughter and hoots. I made a joke about never washing my face again, which landed pretty well considering the moment.”
I started to laugh sometime around the middle of his story, my stomach hurting as I pictured the scene.
“That is pretty embarrassing, but one hell of a story.”
Tristan nodded, his smile still wide and his face lighting up. It was a very welcome contrast to the terror that had infiltrated earlier in the night. I wasn’t letting my guard down by any means, but I did take a moment to relax into the seat, allowing myself to enjoy this moment, just like my therapist would have told me to.
“I’ve got pictures of it.”
“No way, really?”
He looked out the window, giving me a moment to admire his side profile. I tried not to stare, but it was difficult when a man like Tristan was sitting only a couple of feet away from you. “We’re trading again, though. One embarrassing photo for another.”
I managed to flick my gaze away right before Tristan turned back to me. I didn’t have many photos in my phone, but it looked like we were never meant to trade anyway since the driver slowed down at the front of a set of curling iron gates, blushing-red rosebushes lining up the tall brick wall that surrounded the property.
“Holy shit,” Tristan said, leaning between the two front seats like an excited puppy. The gates opened, and the winding driveway led us up to our stay. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Nope,” I said, seeing Tristan this excited making me irrationally happy. “Told you I splurged.”
7
TRISTAN HALL
This wasn’t an Airbnb. It was an AirBnZ, encompassing the entire fucking alphabet.
“How did you even find this place? In the middle of Atlanta?”
“We aren’t really in the middle,” Gabe answered as we walked toward the castle made of sleek glass and modern lines. “Also, I did a shit ton of googling.”
It looked like a house plucked right out of the Hollywood Hills, belonging to a famous film star who liked her homes extravagant and stylish. It was gray and white with black trim that made the extended porch appear like it was miles long, wrapping around the front of the home. The landscaping was equally as impressive, with emerald-green grass climbing up the slight incline that led to a bed of colorful peonies and tall sunflowers and pastel pink and blue orchids.
“Damn,” I said as Gabriel opened the two towering frosted glass doors that led into the foyer. “I’m going to need to get stalked and threatened more often if it means staying in a place like this.”
He chuckled as he shut the doors, clicking the heavy locks into place. “It’s also got a state-of-the-art alarm system connected directly to the APD and the FBI. If the Midnight Chemist so much as steps a toe past those gates, they’re done for.”
“Does that mean some suited men and women are sitting in a dark room listening to us right now?”
“Possibly,” Gabe said. “So watch what you say.” He shot me a wink.
“Penis,” I whispered.
He cocked his head. I wondered if he would catch on. Maybe he had never played this game? Maybe he didn’t have an immature teenager controlling all of his more intrusive thoughts. I was about to explain when Gabriel repeated me, saying the word a little louder than my whisper.
“Penis,” I echoed, saying it louder.
“Penis.” Gabe spoke in his normal voice.
I raised mine. “Penis.”
“Penis!”
“Penis!” I shouted at the top of my lungs before I bent over laughing, Gabe joining me.
Nothing to see here. Just two grown men laughing over a schoolyard game. I looked up, meeting Gabe’s eyes, which glittered under the bright lights washing down from the vaulted ceiling. His strong brow and prominent jawline appeared to be etched out of stone, the shadows adding contrast that had to have been placed there by a master painter and charcoal. I had the sudden urge to run my thumb across those lines, tracing them until I reached his lips.
Shit. I caught myself staring. I blinked and looked away, rubbing the back of my neck. “There,” I said. “At least our FBI agents know what we’re about.”