Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I expect the wind to hit me right away, but it’s not that bad today. The sun is actually out, and it feels warm. I take off the hat and tuck it in my pocket when I get in the car. The driver starts small talk, but I’m so nervous all I can do is look out the window until we get to the brown building. “Thank you,” I say, shutting the door and looking at the glass doors, wondering if I’ll even be able to get to her.
I pull open the door, heading to the lobby. The man looks up from the desk in the middle of the area. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here to deliver something to Ryleigh Beckett on the seventh floor.” I hold up the white bag in my hand with tissue paper sticking out.
“I need your ID,” he says. I reach in my back pocket, taking out my black Louis Vuitton wallet. Pulling out my Nashville license, I hand it to him, and he turns to the side, scanning it before handing it back to me. “Sign in on that.” He points at the clipboard. “Then empty your pockets.” He points at the white circle bin. “And go through that.” He gestures to the metal detector. I nod at him, taking my phone, hat, and wallet out of my pockets and putting them into the white bin before someone else comes over to me, pointing at the bag in my hand. My pulse starts to pick up even though I have nothing to hide. The thought I could be strip-searched never even crossed my mind. I’m just a guy who wants to ask a girl out. She better fucking say yes.
“Need to look in the bag,” he states, and I hand him the gift bag. My heart palpitates as if I’m actually carrying stuff I shouldn’t be even though it’s just a fucking shirt. He moves the tissue paper around and squishes the bag before passing it to the guy waiting on the other side of the metal detector. I walk through it, saying a silent prayer that it doesn’t somehow beep for whatever reason. My palms are fucking sweaty as I wait for the guy to give me the go-ahead. It takes maybe five seconds, which feels like a million years, and he points to the right. “Elevators are that way.”
“Thank you.” I grab my stuff in a rush, not even bothering to tuck my hat back in my pocket. Instead, I wait until I’m in the elevator before I start putting my wallet back in my pants and then my hat away. My phone is in my hand, with my finger tapping the back of it. I step out on the seventh floor and look at the girl sitting behind a brown desk. “Hi, I’m looking for Ryleigh Beckett.”
She smiles at me. “Who can I say is here?”
“Stone,” I say my name, and she raises her eyebrows. I’m not sure if it’s because she doesn’t believe me or she knows who I am.
She picks up the black phone and punches some numbers in and waits. “Hey,” she says, her voice going low as if I won’t hear her while I’m right in front of her, “there is a Stone here to see you?” She looks at me, then tries to hide her smile. “Standing in the reception area right now.” She tries to keep a straight face. “Um,” she says, and I can just imagine what Ryleigh is saying. “Correct.” She hangs up the phone.
“Should I just go and surprise her?” I say, pointing to the side where I think the offices are. Her eyes go even bigger, and she shakes her head. “She likes me,” I insist. “She’s just not sure of it.”
“If you say so,” she mumbles. I hear the sound of heels clicking and I can’t help the smile that fills my face. I look over and see her walking down the hallway wearing wide-legged red pants with a black belt and a long-sleeved black shirt. Her hair is piled on her head in a bun, leaving me access to bite and kiss her neck.
I’m waiting for her to look up and see me, and when she does, the glare she gives me would make any other man run the other way. Lucky for me, I grew up in a family where glares were given with love. I wait for her to stop in front of me before I say, “gorgeous.” I put one hand on her hip and lean in to kiss her cheek.
“What are you doing here?” She folds her arms over her chest before looking at the receptionist, who watches the scene unfold in front of her like we’re some soap opera. “Ugh, come with me.” She turns back toward her office.