Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
The man pressed his lips together like he was fighting a smile and nodded, humoring me.
“I assure you, I do not attempt to flirt with every man I encounter.” I was aware I sounded defensive, that I needed to shut up, but I couldn’t stop. “Not even most men. Not that it’s any of your business, but my dating days are over.”
“I see.” His brown eyes danced. “Because you’ve found The One? Or because you’ve given up on relationships altogether?”
I snorted. No one asked me questions like this, and if they dared, I certainly never answered. So it was mystifying that somehow my mouth kept running.
“If you must know, The One is a foolish construct created by greeting card manufacturers and… and… peddlers of romantic fiction. It’s not real or attainable—” My brain conjured up images of Wells and Conor, along with the other men I’d dated who’d gone on to find love and permanence. “—at least not for most people. Spending my life searching for it would be a case study in diminishing returns, and I don’t back losing investments.” Overton Investments’ track record spoke for itself, if anyone cared to google it.
“You’ve given up on love, then.” Hugh smiled crookedly. “That’s too bad.” He looked away for a moment, and I wondered if he was getting ready to politely excuse himself.
“More like love has given up on me,” I corrected quickly, not out of any attempt to prolong my interaction with the gorgeous photographer, of course—obviously not, since I was busy being Wells’s best man this evening—but simply for the sake of accuracy. “And frankly, I prefer it this way. I’m not living like a monk. Far from it. I simply see no reason to hold on to some ideal of a romantic relationship when I have plenty of meaningful relationships in my life already. Especially when I could choose a different sexy man to… hold on to each night.” I gave him a fake smoldering look. “See? That’s what flirtation sounds like.”
Hugh’s eyes widened in dismay, then he clapped a hand to his stomach and hunched over like he’d been gut-shot. “Ugh. No. It’s definitely not. You did better when you weren’t trying. Three out of ten. And maybe it’s time to consider monkhood.”
A startled laugh escaped me before I could bite it back. “This is officially the strangest wedding conversation I’ve ever had.”
Maybe the strangest conversation I’d ever had, period. I was a Forbes list billionaire. CEO of an investment company, the details of which I tried my hardest to keep private. A man with influence and invitations to all the best social events. Strangers tended to agree with me first and ask questions later… if they bothered asking questions at all.
So maybe it was no surprise that talking with Hugh felt like a breath of fresh air.
He laughed, too, and ran a hand over his curls. “I don’t know about that. I’ve had a lot of strange wedding conversations.” I arched an eyebrow, and he shrugged sheepishly. “I get hit on a lot. Groomsmen, ex-boyfriends, elderly grandmas. It’s not that anyone’s interested in me, really, just that weddings are all about hope and harmony and good vibes, and people get high on the emotion. They fall in love with love, you know?”
“Mmm.” I imagined the reason people flirted with Hugh had less to do with a romance contact high and more to do with him being gorgeous, sexy, and effortlessly charming, but I wasn’t going to say so. That really would be flirtatious, and I wasn’t—was not—going to hook up at Wells’s wedding. Also, given the way the conversation was going, Hugh would probably offer more blistering commentary on my technique.
This idea made my lips twitch against the urge to smile.
“Well, I assure you, weddings don’t affect me that way,” I informed him. “As Vic so kindly pointed out, back when I was dating, I dated several of the men here—”
“Half,” Hugh agreed solemnly.
“Not half.” I scowled. “Definitely not half. But the point is, I’ve never been close to falling in love with any of them. And I’m far too busy to—”
The tablecloth on the gift table wiggled slightly, though there was no one else standing nearby, and my heart jumped. Frank. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten him for a moment.
“Speaking of busy!” I grabbed Hugh’s elbow to turn him toward the dance floor. “Here I’ve been monopolizing your evening when you have a job to do. Horribly rude of me. Not as rude as, say, critiquing a man’s flirtation skills without invitation, but still. You should go—”
Hugh shrugged me off with another of those knowing, intriguing grins. “It’s fine. The videographer and his assistant will be capturing Conor and Wells’s arrival. Conor was very clear that he wanted me to circulate as a guest and take candids. ‘I want to get pictures of our loved ones enjoying themselves,’ he said.”