Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
16
RAINE
Someone, pinch me. The stars were aligning for the first time in what felt like forever, and I was on top of the fucking world.
I had money in the bank, thanks to the admittedly unconventional research job I’d completed for The Horsham Group, an interview with a historian who worked closely with a curator from the British Museum, and I was actually beginning to like the banjo. That was probably because I’d spent every night since we’d returned from Cornwall in Graham’s bed. And yes, that last one was by far my favorite thing.
Graham, not the banjo.
I was afraid our weekend getaway would be our last big hoorah, and while I told myself I was okay with that, I knew it would hurt to walk away from Graham. Our shelf life was limited and that aspect hadn’t changed, but we hadn’t agreed to a definitive end date.
The trip to Cornwall was the logical choice as it officially wrapped up my business with The Horsham Group and would roughly coincide with the deal they were anxious to close. I’d half expected Graham to remind me to gather my belongings and send me on my way when we pulled to the curb outside his house. That didn’t happen.
So maybe the big adios would come the following morning or after work. But nothing changed.
Day two, I finally caved.
“What are we doing?” I’d blurted, biting into a piece of toast. “I like you and I don’t want to go, but…I also don’t want to wait on pins and needles for the ax to fall or worse, worry that you’re trying to find a nice way to ask me to pack up my shit and vamoose.”
Graham had pursed his lips and set his coffee mug on the island, snaking his arm around my waist. “I like you too. I don’t think we have to change anything, do you?”
And that was that.
I’d been walking on a cloud for the past ten days, enjoying the perks of living in London without worrying about what came next every other minute.
The city was beautiful in June. Everything was in bloom, the weather was a glorious seventy degrees, and the sun didn’t set till well after dinner. There was a manic quality in the air as if everyone had a case of summer fever. Joggers crowded the pathways and the green-and-white striped lawn chairs were filled with picnickers and tourists soaking up the sunshine.
Graham and I ate our meals on the terrace and took walks through Hyde Park, holding hands as we strolled through the gardens and along the Serpentine. Occasionally, he’d stop to watch a soccer match—excuse me, football—and cheer along with random spectators.
I couldn’t help noticing the way his gaze followed the ball across the pitch, leaning to his left as if he could will the player to kick it in just the right spot, then groaning when they whiffed it.
“You should play again,” I’d commented, threading my arm through his.
“I’m forty-six, Ray-n, and I like that my knees work.”
“Oh, brother. Join a team for older dudes.”
“Watch it,” he’d warned, narrowing his eyes.
“Or…start an office team. I bet Sanjay and Darwin would join. I could talk Victoria into it too. I’m not a sporty person, but they say group activities are good for morale. We had a softball team at the university. I played right field…as in far, far in the right field. They had someone else in the actual position ’cause I couldn’t catch a ball to save my life. The baseball part was a little boring, but the drinks afterward were fun and something tells me your employees would love it.”
Graham had halted in the middle of the busy path, and just stared at me. “You played baseball?”
“Softball,” I’d corrected, hoping he wouldn’t ask me to explain the difference.
“Huh.” He shook his head. “You’re full of surprises.”
“And good ideas. Admit it.”
“And good ideas,” he’d agreed, smiling as he linked our fingers.
I’d beamed and somehow resisted pointing out that life shouldn’t be all about work and no play. As far as I could tell, Graham never met up with mates at the pub. He hung out with me. That was it. If I didn’t think it would blow up in my face, I would have volunteered to organize a team. But I didn’t want to do anything that might come across as getting too comfortable.
I wanted to play it cool and enjoy every minute we had together. The butterflies in my stomach, the dreamy feeling I got when he walked into a room or said my name…No one had ever made me feel the way Graham did. He thought I was smart, capable, brave, and sexy, and damn it, I was beginning to believe him.
And it made me think I might be someone he needed too. I might even be someone he could have feelings for. I wouldn’t dare say words I knew would make him uncomfortable, but I knew this thing bubbling inside me was special…significant, even.