Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
I turn to answer, but she’s already gone. The view is breathtaking, capturing the busy silver waters below.
But I probably shouldn’t waste more time standing around.
So I move to the sizable mahogany desk in the middle of the room and free my laptop from its bag. As I’m setting it down, I notice a crisp white envelope.
I’m instantly winded, reminded of my first encounter with Miles.
Especially when I see my name scrolled across the front.
Jennifer.
Oh, God. Do I want to know?
Curiosity killed the cat and I’m not immune, kitten puns aside.
Inside, there’s a dull black greeting card with a Bloomingdale’s gift card still in its cardboard container, $2000 printed on the back.
A tiny note scrawled inside the card says, For office attire. Make yourself pretty—or should I say prettier?
My heart leaps.
He ordered me to Seattle so he could send me on a shopping spree? I can’t decide if I should be offended or grateful.
This man is maddening. Nothing he does makes any sense.
I pick up my phone and punch in a text. Is something wrong with my office attire?
His response is immediate. I’m not there to check, am I?
Jenn: But you needed to send me shopping.
Miles: I need to dress you up. Consider it compensation for exiling you to help my team.
I’m mad.
Furious, really, and mostly at myself for blushing when I know full well this is more of his assholery.
Jenn: I had no idea you spent so much time thinking about what I’m wearing.
The three dots pop up on the screen like he’s typing. Then they disappear.
I wait for a comeback that never arrives.
Probably for the best, considering the direction this conversation is taking.
Sorry if I caught you off guard, I send.
I settle back at my computer, reviewing videos and concepts until my phone dings over an hour later.
Miles: You know what? I have too much self-control to dignify that with an answer.
Jenn: The fact that you need self-control proves I’m right, Crankyface.
Miles: Show me what you pick out.
The next day, when I come in, the coffee station is filled with a Wired Cup campfire brew. “Nice. I’m normally a Sweeter Grind girl, but I like their s’mores coffee. This is pretty close.”
Louise reaches around me to grab a cup. “Mr. Cromwell said you would.”
How did he know?
More importantly, why were they discussing it?
“You talked about it?”
She waves her hand. “He asked me to order it. He wants you to be comfortable here.”
The coffee is so delicious it’s hard to be annoyed, but we need to talk.
I head to my lavish temporary office and sink into the high-back Italian leather power chair. It’s so comfy it’s hard to remember why I ever hated being chained to a desk at Winthrope.
I pull out my phone and type.
Jenn: Now you’re just showing off. Also, your human side is showing, but you can quit groveling. I’m never selling the inn.
Miles: Cromwells don’t grovel. I’m a good host. Learn the difference.
How’s the coffee?
Jenn: Delicious. And unnecessary.
Miles: I’m sure there are a thousand studies proving caffeine helps focus.
Jenn: You weren’t concerned about my comfort or my 'focus' the last time we saw each other…
I know, I know.
I shouldn’t go there, but I already did.
And that’s it.
That’s all it takes to shut the conversation down. I didn’t even mention the kiss that’s still living in my head rent free. A single hint causes radio silence.
Yeah, I’m this close to tearing my hair out.
Maybe I should add a wig to my shopping list.
I’m so effing sick of this man and his guessing games.
After lunch, I come back to the office to find a huge dog gift basket on my desk. And when I say huge, it’s so large it takes up most of the desk, filled to the brim with high-end dog food, baked doggy treats, chew toys, and a couple stylish collars sized just for my twin brats.
My face screws up as I grab my phone.
Jenn: Didn’t I tell you to quit groveling?
Miles: I’ve been friends with the dogs longer than I’ve known you. They aren’t used to traveling and I’m sure they miss their quiet beaches.
Holy shit.
Now he’s killing my dogs with kindness too?
I want to tell him Coffee and Cream are the only ones who’ll ever put up with his attitude.
But he’s right.
The Dobermans light up for him the way they only do with their favorite people.
My phone buzzes again.
Miles: Make sure they get their bones. Power chewers learn to relax with something in their mouths.
I glare at the screen. It’s a known trick he only could’ve learned from Gram.
Jenn: I’m not sure they need your bones. They’re well fed and my mother made a pet store run today.
Miles: Everyone wants my bone, Jenn. Get over it.
Heat surges under my face. I rack my brain for a good response and decide I’m better off if we just quit talking about bones.