Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Beau strides on, and I slip into the far corner, trying to hide my somewhat obvious feelings from one of the most observant men on the planet.
“How’s the day, Juniper June?” he asks, and I clear my throat before answering.
“Good. Busy, but good.” I’m surprised but proud of how normal I actually sound.
“Good,” he says, his eyes looking up to a small elevator screen that shows each floor as we pass. He turns to smile at me, and my knees wobble. “I stayed up way too late last night. I’ve been behind all damn day.”
I suck my lips into my mouth, nod, and pray like hell he can’t see that my whole body is vibrating with nerves.
The elevator dings.
“Have a good day, June,” Beau says, striding off the cart without another word, and I follow after him, looking painfully like a dutiful puppy, thanks to our matching routes.
Beau stops at an office just across from my cubicle, catching Mary from Public Relations on her way out. I sit down and wake up my computer, but my ears have their own agenda.
“Have a good night last night, Mary?” Beau asks, making me smile. Even being as busy as he is, he always makes time to be personable with all the employees. I know he has at least two campaigns coming to a head this week, plus the Midnight prep and planning, and still, he’s taking the time to stop and chitchat with Mary.
“I did,” she replies, a sweet smile in her voice. “How about you, Beau?”
I open an email from Neil with a contract he needs copied and start to type out a reply. Still, my ears…they listen.
“It was good. Interesting, actually.” He chuckles. “Unexpected, if you will.” As he pauses, so do my fingers on the keyboard. “Did you do anything fun?”
“Just made Bill and me some dinner and watched a little TV.”
“So, you didn’t do any Midnight chatting?”
Oh my God. I pause mid-type, and my fingers hover over the keys. Is he…trying to find out who the whistleblower is?
Clicking print on Neil’s contract as quickly as I can, I stand and make my way to the printer between Avery’s and my cubicles. Hers is a little closer to their conversation, and along with the ears, the eyes are now involved.
“Oh no, honey,” Mary says, patting him on the shoulder. “Bill and I are in bed by ten at the latest.”
Beau smiles and dismisses himself, and I stretch my neck to watch as he walks down the hall toward his office. His head swings back and forth, peering in on coworkers as he goes, and my stomach does a backflip on itself.
Holy hell. I wonder if he’s going to be questioning everyone all day about his Midnight Mystery Chatter.
I also wonder if I should be hurt that we already had alone time in the elevator and he showed absolutely no signs of suspecting it to be me.
No way. This is good. This is exciting. In fact, this is an opportunity.
What might I not be afraid to say if I were truly anonymous? What would it be like to be more than me?
With bellies full of Mexican food from our favorite restaurant up the street from our condo, Avery and I walk through the lobby of our building and step onto the elevator.
She’s busy texting with I-don’t-even-know who, and I’m dreaming about crawling into my bed. It’s not easy being a secret whistleblower—discreetly spying on Seth McKenzie’s every move—and anonymously conversing with my lifelong crush, who just so happens to be my best friend’s older brother, who also happens to be a man I now work with on a daily basis.
Trust me, I know. When I lay it all out there, it sounds batshit crazy.
“Once we get upstairs, you have exactly ten minutes to get your ass in gear,” Avery says, taking a selfie of herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror wall of the elevator.
“My ass in gear for what?” I scrunch up my nose. “Because if it’s for anything but crawling into my big, cozy bed, I’m not doing it.”
“Oh, get serious,” she says through an amused snort, as if what I’m saying is the epitome of ridiculous. “You’re not going to bed, Grandma June. You’re coming to Allure with me. We already established this at dinner.”
If I’m being honest, I didn’t hear half the shit Avery said during dinner. Once she started telling me about some college football player she thinks I need to bang, I started tuning her out and just focused on keeping my exhausted eyes open long enough to eat my enchiladas.
The cart beeps as it rises and passes the floors below ours, and Avery slides her phone back into her purse and turns her attention back to me. “Come on, June. You can’t freaking miss this,” she says, a proverbial knife to my throat. “It’s DJ Johnny! I’m begging you. Go in your room, put on something that shows your cooch, and come with me to Allure.”