Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“Not at the restaurant.” I pause, unsure if you can call a couple of park benches down an alleyway a restaurant before starting again, “At the thrift store.” I bump him with my hip like we’re lifelong friends. It weakens the groove between his brows by shunting his unease onto me. “I figured your earlier grope would have announced I lack the booty gene.” I shake my ample chest. “My mom said I must have gone back for boobs twice.” That gets a smile out of him, but it isn’t as big as it was before we went to the thrift store. “I was fine hanging with your friends if that’s your jam. You didn’t have to go outside your comfort zone to keep me happy.”
Jack spins around and walks backward. “What makes you say this isn’t my comfort zone?” Before the words can leave my mouth, he quickly adds, “Other than my watch.”
I’d rib him with my elbow if he weren’t two steps in front of me. “It just doesn’t seem like your jam.”
He slants his head, which only just conceals his smirk. “It?”
When I wave my hand toward the alleyway we’ve taken a detour down, his dark eyes drink in the bland palette before he confesses, “This was pretty much all I did in my early teens.” The twinkle I’ve been dying to ignite for the past three hours resurfaces more vigorously than ever. “Although there were a few more shopping carts and empty beer cans back then.” His laugh echoes in the silence of the alley. It buds my nipples and has me paying careful attention to his mouth when he speaks, “We couldn’t afford skateboards, so we used what we could.”
“It was probably for the best. The stone edging at the museum was the equivalent of a grater if you landed on it wrong.” I pull up the sleeve of the fitted shirt I purchased from the thrift shop to show him the scar on my elbow. “This baby saw Caleb’s vomit landing on my shoes. He hates blood.”
“Caleb?” Back is the jealous, possessive man I’ve missed the past three hours. It isn’t Jack’s obvious wealth that’s kept my heart pumping excessively the past several hours. It is the look in his eye whenever I catch him watching me—how he stares at me like I’m some sort of gift. Like not a million dollars could compare to watching me eat sloppy tacos and grimace when half of the toppings land on my plate instead of in my mouth.
I wait a beat to make sure he doesn’t mistake the flirtiness in my tone as the wrong type of affection for my cousin before replying, “Caleb is my cousin slash almost brother. Our mothers are best friends as well as sisters-in-law, and since we were born on the same dark, demented night, we class ourselves as siblings.”
Jack’s smile could light up the darkest night and call me cocky, but I’m reasonably sure he’s blinding me with it so I can’t see the relief gleaming in his eyes. “And where is Caleb now?”
“Most likely dodging Jess’s eagerness,” I huff out with a laugh.
His dark brow quirks. “Jess from the meeting, Jess?”
I nod. “One and the same. She has a thing for unattainable men.”
I’m envious of his tongue when he delves it out to lick his top lip before he asks with a wry grin, “And you don’t?”
My lips twist to hide my smile. It doesn’t lessen Jack’s interest in staring at my mouth, but it makes it hard to articulate my reply with the edgy playfulness I’m aiming for. “I don’t know yet. I guess it depends on how you answer my question.”
A move to Hollywood is still in his cards when he mutters, “Question?”
“Nice try, buddy, but I have the memory of an elephant. I forget nothing.” My voice is super dramatic, and it echoes down the isolated alleyway.
After spinning back around and standing so close our hands almost touch, Jack mutters, “It was nothing you said or did. I just…” The briefest connection of our pinkies makes his next words seem nowhere near as alarming as they should be. “Let my past get away from me.”
I have enough baggage to ban me from flying for the next century, so I don’t have room for more, but something about Jack has me throwing caution to the wind. “I wish it hadn’t… because I wasn’t really stuck. I just wanted an excuse for you to join me in the changing room.”
He slants his head, arches a brow, then stares at me for several long seconds to gauge the authenticity of my reply. When he gets a lot of truth with only the slightest smear of dishonesty, he asks, “And why did you want that?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I thought maybe we could have finished what we started in your office.” Now it’s my turn to walk backward. “That is why you sent away the salesperson, wasn’t it?”