Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
GIGGLE.
Like Charlotte.
Like a girl with her heart fully intact.
Sawyer’s soulful brown eyes meet mine, and then they drop ominously to my lips. I know he wants to kiss me, and because this is all one big game, I let him. Beneath the twinkle lights, his mouth touches mine, and we taste just like Chenin Blanc, sweet and crisp. I kiss him back too hard, too eager. His hand comes up to wrap around my neck—it tightens—and he nearly tugs me off my chair and onto his lap.
The kiss should end, but neither of us pulls away. I’ve had too much wine and not enough of the delicious food, too much good conversation and laughter that’s done the exact opposite of what I was hoping. I’m supposed to be keeping my wits about me and twisting him into knots, and instead I let him slip his tongue into my mouth and make me shiver.
“Madison,” he groans.
Then he pulls back before I can, interrupting what is hands down the best kiss of my life. I blink as if coming out of a daze.
What have you done to me?
“It goes without saying that the man was out of his mind for letting you walk away.”
I want to fall under his spell so badly it scares me.
REMEMBER WHY YOU’RE HERE.
I shake myself out of my stupor and tack on a teasing smile. “His loss is your gain, I suppose.”
Then I lean in and kiss him again, this time ensuring I’m the one to pull away first. It’s the last time I allow myself to touch him. Otherwise, I’ll jeopardize the mission. If Kendra wanted me to go out on one date with Sawyer, flirt with him, and wrap him around my little finger—I’ve done it.
When he drops me off back at Queenie’s house, he walks me right up to my door before he turns and looks at me with blatant desire.
“When can I see you again?”
So direct. So sexy.
“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see” is the flirty response I toss back because I’m not sure what else to say.
I don’t want to ruin everything now, on my doorstep. He’s been a gentleman tonight, ensured it was a date to remember, but now I have to hold up my end of the bargain.
“Night, Sawyer.”
I smile coyly then slip inside feeling none of what I was hoping (a surge of strength, triumphant glee) and everything confusing (guilt and longing). I slowly trudge up the stairs, glad Queenie’s already gone to sleep. I don’t want to have to fake it anymore. I dropped my mask the second I closed the door, and now it’d be too hard to put back in place.
In my bedroom, I check my phone to see I have three missed calls and a slew of text messages from Kendra.
How’s it going?
Is he eating out of the palm of your hand?
OMG I’m dying here.
It’s too late to call her so I text instead.
It’s done.
Then I toss my phone on my nightstand, disgusted. Agreeing to Kendra’s plan wasn’t the strong moral choice, but I went through with it anyway, rationalizing my decision because I know Sawyer hurt Kendra in the past and deserves karmic justice. Not to mention, I know the kind of guy Sawyer is. Right? Everything about him from his easy charm to his dripping confidence makes it clear he’s a heartbreaker. He had it coming, surely.
Didn’t he?
Oh god…
No one told me being a vigilante hero would be this difficult.
CHAPTER 6
When Wildflower Weddings was a brand-new company, Queenie converted our dining room to an office. Clients would arrive at our house at all hours of the day and night. Some brides would show up glowing and excited while others would slump in their seat at the dining room table and pour out buckets of tears over their fears and concerns. As a teenager, I witnessed my mom talk many brides off the ledge concerning a variety of heinous decisions: a bright orange bedazzled wedding dress, baby lizards as reception favors, Uncle Ronnie who swears he’s really good on guitar as the wedding singer.
Queenie has always excelled at the public-facing parts of her job. She’s a calm, fearless leader, personable and chatty. However, the logistics of running a small business is a burden she’s never quite been able to tackle.
Taxes? She’s filed them late every year I can remember.
Invoicing clients? “Well…listen, I feel bad charging her.”
Building an online presence, a website, Instagram, anything? Not happening. Queenie says people can find her in the phone book.
I know a few years ago she finally moved her operation out of our dining room and into a rental space on Main Street, but I haven’t had a chance to see it firsthand—which I feel bad about—so Monday morning, she and I head there bright and early. I’m actually eager to get to work and have a way to distract myself.