Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
He’s a cruel bastard, but I can’t see him firing me in front of his friend. Maybe that’s wishful thinking, but I’ll hold onto that hope for as long as possible.
“All right,” I whisper. “I’ll come back to the table.”
Lottie goes in for a side hug, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “I think you two would make a great couple.”
I snap my head to the right to look directly at her. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Laughter escapes her. “What? He’s hot, right? You see it, don’t you?”
I’d be lying if I said Mr. Hunt wasn’t good-looking, but something tells me Lottie will be more than happy to share my opinion on that with him, so I keep it to myself.
“You said Randall ordered champagne?” I ask not only to change the subject but to confirm that I’ll be able to calm my nerves as soon as I take a seat.
“The best the restaurant has to offer,” she assures me. “Let’s go toast to the future. It’s going to be bright for all of us.”
Except me.
After tonight, my future is going to be as bleak as a rainy day in October.
I may as well have the time of my life before it explodes into a million little pieces.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Reid
Miss Starling has done a damn fine job of avoiding my constant glances in her direction throughout this dinner.
She’s also barely spoken a word, but I blame that on Randall because he can’t shut the hell up. He’s given every person at this table a glimpse into his past. Only his bride-to-be seemed captivated by all of the boring details, and even she seemed to lose interest when Randall got around to talking about why he wasn’t chosen for valedictorian in high school.
The reason was simple. Sandra Christensen was a hell of a lot smarter than him. I recall the night he got the news that he wouldn’t be stepping up to the podium at graduation to give the twenty-three-minute speech he’d been writing for months.
We were both just shy of our eighteenth birthdays at the time. Donovan bought us a six pack of beer so Randall could drown his sorrows and I could take it all in from the sidelines.
“This steak is to die for,” Charlotte says something we already all know since she ordered for everyone.
I would have preferred the sea bass, and I could tell by the disappointed look on Miss Starling’s face that she was also in the mood for something from the surf side of the menu as opposed to the turf, but Charlotte took the reins.
I should have stepped in and insisted everyone order what they wanted, but Randall was gushing so hard over his fiancée’s impeccable taste in food and men that I rolled my eyes and went with it.
I’ll pay for this meal because that seems like something a best man would do, but I’m circling back here soon for the sea bass.
From what Charlotte said after her third bite of steak, she’s due back here with my assistant early next week so they can sample entrees for the wedding. That was supposed to happen tonight, but Randall blew up that plan when we showed up unexpectedly. The restaurant was prepping a sampling for two people, not four, so the staff was quick to reschedule that and pivot to a dinner service for our table.
“It’s good,” Evangeline chimes in.
“It’s a hell of a lot better than a hot dog,” I add to see if I can snag a second of my assistant’s attention.
It works like a fucking charm.
She looks at me, and lo and behold, there’s a small grin on her lips.
The woman has indulged in three glasses of champagne and a steak dinner, and yet, her lips are still the same alluring shade of red that haunts my dreams.
Haunts my dreams?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I push my champagne flute away because I’ve obviously reached my hard limit for the night, even though I’ve only taken a couple of sips.
“Who wants dessert?” Charlotte asks although I suspect she’ll order whatever she wants for all of us, regardless of what we’d prefer.
“Not me,” Miss Starling answers, shaking her head. “I need to get home.”
I know firsthand she lives alone and has no pets. I only know that tidbit about my assistant since I overheard her tell Natasha a few weeks ago that she hopes to own a dog one day. Apparently, her current landlord has a strict no-pet policy.
Perhaps my assistant’s need to get home is more of a want. I can’t blame her. I want this evening to end now, too.
“Really?” Charlotte whines. “Can’t you stay just a little bit longer, Evie?”
“I can’t, Lottie,” Miss Starling drags that nickname for Charlotte across her tongue like it’s done her wrong.
Charlotte sends her a half-assed smile. “That’s too bad.”