Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
I nearly die of humiliation. My mom is really upset with me this time, so much so she doesn’t notice the young man standing to the side while catering staff enter and exit the house like a steady file of ants.
“Get inside.” She lets go of my arm and grabs the box from my hands. “Now.”
“Wait,” I cry out, trying to take back the box. “You’ll drop it.”
My mom holds the box out of reach. “What have you done now?”
“Nothing, I swear.”
Pursing her lips, she opens the flap.
“His name is Pirate,” I say, talking so fast my tongue trips over the words. “Please, you have to let me keep him.”
My mom holds the box at arm’s length. “You know I’m allergic to cats.”
“Please.” I press my palms together in a begging gesture. “It’s the only birthday gift I want. I’ll never ask you for anything else.”
My mom flicks her fingers. Miraculously, a staff member appears at her side.
“Put this in the guest bathroom upstairs.” She thrusts the box at the man, who’s one of our gardeners. “We’ll take it to the SPCA tomorrow.”
“No,” the stranger says, the word loaded with so much authority that both my mom and the gardener freeze.
I don’t know who’s more surprised, my mom or me.
My mom spins around and gives a start when her gaze falls on the guy. She looks between us, suspicion tightening her eyes. “What are you doing here at the back of the house?”
He steps up and takes the box from the gardener. “I was just giving Sabella her birthday present.”
Reeling, my mother says in a high-pitched voice, “Excuse me?”
Carefully, he hands the box back to me. “If I’d known you were allergic, Mrs. Edwards, I would’ve included antihistamines with the gift. It’s an easy enough problem to solve and a small sacrifice to pay for Sabella’s happiness.” He adds with a mocking smile, “I’m sure you’ll forgive me for the oversight.”
My mom’s nostrils flare. Her chest rises as she inhales sharply. Seemingly unable to string together words to make a sentence, she flicks her fingers again at which the gardener slips away as fast as he appeared.
“Well,” my mom says, giving me a narrow-eyed look. “You better go settle your new pet and get ready. You’ve kept everyone waiting long enough. I’ll tell Mattie to help you get dressed so that your guests don’t have to wait another hour.”
Turning up her nose, she leaves as regally as her high heels allow.
I’m shocked to a standstill, unable to believe my luck. Gaping at the handsome stranger, I say with all the sincerity I possess, “Thank you.”
A hint of warmth softens the harsh blackness of his eyes. “You’re welcome, cara.”
My stomach flutters at yet another term of endearment. “Why did you do it?”
His statement is casual, but the words are loaded. “Because you should get what you want for your birthday.”
“Your business must be really important to my dad. My mom never gives in like that.”
He shoves a hand in his pocket and glances at the partygoers. “There are only old people here. Don’t you have friends?”
“I’m not socially awkward and incapable of making friends, if that’s what you’re implying,” I say with a grin.
“I’d never be so crass,” he deadpans. “I’m just wondering why they’re not invited.”
“Everyone is away for the big summer holiday.” I pout. “If it wasn’t for this party, I would’ve been in Plettenberg Bay with them right now.”
His expression darkens. “Alone?”
“I wish.” I make a face. “My brother and his wife would’ve gone along to chaperone.”
“Ah.” Some of his tenseness evaporates. “If it makes you feel better, I could’ve been skiing in the Alps.”
“Really?” That pang of defensiveness hits me again. “You must be very disappointed about missing out on that.”
“Not so much now. The view here is very nice.”
I laugh. “Nice?”
“A lot more than I expected.”
My breathing quickens. I’m new at the nuances of our game, but I like playing it with him.
“Can I see?” he asks, motioning at the box.
“Oh.” His interest in Pirate makes me happy. Giddily, so. “Of course.”
I lift the flap. We both peer into the box, our heads close together. His cologne is a blend of something woodsy and citrusy, a subtle perfume that makes me want to bury my face in his neck and inhale the fragrance of his skin. He tickles Pirate under the chin and chuckles when the kitten purrs, but I’m not focused on the cat. I’m too aware of our proximity and how good he smells.
“He’s cute,” he says, raising his gaze to mine.
I clear my throat. “He is.”
A weird, almost calculated look comes over his face. “Who gave him to you?”
“I found him in a trashcan on my way home.”
At that, his features relax. “I’m glad he found a good home.”
“I’m sorry about earlier,” I say on impulse as a fresh bout of gratitude washes over me. “I was rude.”