Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Just for that, I’m breaking out the pictures too. This future, no-face, no-named husband of yours is getting full access.”
“You wouldn’t,” I gasp, knowing damn well he would. He and my uncles will rally around. Not only to embarrass me, but to interrogate said faceless, nameless man. My family also knows that if/when I bring someone home to meet them, he’s special. I haven’t found him yet, but I’m still young. I’m not giving up hope yet.
Dad winks. “I’ll lift the doors. Pull it in, and we’ll get you taken care of.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
His grin grows wider. I don’t call him Daddy often—I’m an adult after all—but sometimes, in moments like these, I slip up, and his eyes soften. No matter how old I get, I’ll always be his little girl.
Less than an hour later, I’m walking through the front door of our apartment. “Honey, I’m home!” I call out to my roommate, Isla.
“Hey, just in time. I made dinner.”
“Oh, so you ordered takeout?” I tease. A cook Isla is not. She tries, and she’s getting better. I’ve been teaching her.
“Yup.” She giggles.
“What are we having?”
“Chinese.”
“Perfect. I’m starving.”
“Did you get your tire all taken care of?” she asks.
I texted her while Dad was working on swapping out the spare. “I did. Dad had what I needed at the shop.”
“How was your day, other than the flat?”
“Good. I met with Dr. Thompson about the gala, total grump, and then he’s the one who ended up helping me.” I go on to tell her the story.
“Is he hot? He sounds hot.” My best friend wags her eyebrows.
“He’s… yeah, he is, but his attitude brings his hotness factor down.”
“So he’s not all mafia-controlling hot, more of plain-old-asshole hot,” she asks, referring to the mafia romance books we like to read.
“Just plain old asshole, period. He doesn’t want to help with the gala, and Hilary left the decision up to me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. I was going to become a thorn in his side, even just to keep him updated to annoy him, but his grumpy ass did come to my rescue tonight.”
“Maybe you should take it easy on him.”
“Yeah,” I agree, not really sure I’m committed to that. He did do a really nice thing tonight. He could have kept on walking, but he stopped and took time out of his evening to help me. I thanked him, but he wouldn’t take any money. “He wouldn’t let me pay him.”
“He’s a doctor, Blake. I’m sure he doesn’t need the money.”
“True, but I still think I should do something nice for him. I just don’t know if leaving him out of the planning is what I want that nice gesture to be.”
“Make him some cookies or cupcakes or something. In fact, make some for us too.” She grins. “Ulterior motive and all that.” She shrugs.
“Which one do you want?” I ask her. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“I’m not gonna be picky.”
“Well, it’s November, so I’m thinking of baking cookies. Besides, we’re working on the gala together. Maybe that will get his grumpy ass in the holiday spirit?” He hates Christmas. I don’t know why, but who can resist a homemade sugar cookie? Sure, they’re popular at Christmastime, but if they’re not Christmas shaped, they’re just a sweet homemade treat.
“I say yes.” Isla bobs her head. “Do that. Oh, and cover the sugar cookies with the icing and sprinkles. I’ll help, you know, once the baking part is over.” She grimaces.
“You just need to slow down and follow the recipe. Baking is easy when you don’t leave out ingredients,” I tease.
“That was one time! One time I forgot.”
“As long as you learned from your mistake.”
“Just make me some damn cookies, woman.” She tosses a balled-up napkin at me.
“If you insist.” I toss my trash, and Isla finishes up cleaning our mess while I pull out the ingredients I’ll need. Yes, I have them on hand. It’s the holiday season, and you never know when you’re going to need or want to bake some cookies. Isla turns on some tunes and starts unloading the dishwasher while I get to work.
With my container of cookies in hand, I leave my office and head toward the physicians’ pavilion of the hospital. That’s where Dr. Thompson’s office is located. The offices are quiet this time in the morning. Pushing open the door, I make my way to the front desk and smile politely at the receptionist.
“Good morning. I’m Blakely Kincaid from marketing. Is Dr. Thompson in?”
“Oh, Blakely, good morning,” Kathy, Dr. Thompson’s nurse, says as she steps into the reception area. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I was actually hoping to catch Dr. Thompson before he starts his day. I just need a few minutes of his time.”
“He’s not here yet, but you’re welcome to come on back and wait in his office.” She nods to the receptionist, who hits the button that automatically unlocks the door, allowing me to push through to the back office.