Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
The sound of his laugh was enough to convince me what he’d said was true. If making me happy felt anything to him like the way making him laugh felt to me, I could understand his willingness.
And if it soothed some little place inside me to think that Bash might think of me every time he saw this throw on his couch, long after this week was over and I was back in Linden… well, that was my own business.
After selecting a pair of abstract paintings of colorful flowers from a local artist, we checked out and put our selections in the Land Rover Bash kept at his Hamptons house. We walked through a few more shops and made our first major purchase—an Art Deco walnut armoire with a hidden compartment that had made me catch my breath at how stunning it was… and then again once I saw the price tag. I tried to hurry Bash along, but it was too late. He’d already noticed my one-sided love affair with the piece and arranged with the clerk to have it sent to his house later in the week.
“You can tell me where it needs to go and what needs to be done with it then,” Bash insisted, strolling me out of the store and down the street. He paused in front of a quaint-looking cafe and inhaled the yeasty scent from inside. “Let’s get lunch.”
Bash is a grown man who can decide how he spends his money, I told myself repeatedly as we walked inside. The decor was charming—funky and colorful, with gleaming wood tables and sunshine streaming in the windows—exactly the sort of place I loved. Relax and enjoy this, Rowe.
But all my bold self-talk evaporated when the host handed us menus.
“Twenty-five dollars for a turkey sandwich?” I squeaked when I saw the prices. “Let’s go home.”
“It’s a panini.” Bash’s calm response was betrayed by his grin. “On rustic, artisan bread.”
“Does grilling the bread truly cost the extra twenty bucks? Seriously? Who the hell wants to live in a town that—” I stopped abruptly when I realized the server had arrived. An older woman with laugh lines next to her eyes asked if I preferred still or sparkling water. “Which one is free?” I asked.
Bash’s feet trapped mine under the table, and his soft laughter surrounded me, so infectious our server joined in.
“Neither,” she said with a wink. “If you want free water, the restroom taps are your best bet.”
My jaw dropped, and Bash grinned. “She’s kidding. Still is fine. I’ll also take a limeade. Rowe, would you like wine or a cocktail?”
I glanced at the drinks menu and tried not to choke at the prices listed. “No, thank you.”
“He’ll try the rum punch,” Bash said, raising that devastating eyebrow and daring me to contradict him. “Thanks.”
Once she’d left, he met my eyes. “Lunch is on me. I should have said that before.”
I felt a hot flush of embarrassment and stared out the window at the shoppers strolling by. “I hope so,” I grumbled, “or else I’ll be washing dishes in the back room after this.”
He reached across the small table to grab my hand. “I’m sorry you feel uncomfortable. I should have thought about it before I suggested this place. I thought you’d like it.”
“I did. I do. I like it so much, Bash, and I love that you picked it. I just…” I swallowed my pride and tried to set my nerves aside. “Last Monday night, I went on the website for the Malachite and nearly had a heart attack when I realized how much I have to pay you back for my half of the night we spent there. And the stuff for the house is one thing, since that’s yours, but this lunch… I don’t want you spending money on me, Bash.” I chanced a saucy grin. “Sterling Chase is a sure thing. You don’t need to wine and dine me. Okay?”
“But I like it,” he said slowly. “I like seeing you smile. Giving you new experiences. And there’s no way you’re paying me back for the hotel when that was my idea.”
“It’s easy to say that when you have money. Not being able to pay my way makes me feel…” Inadequate. Useless. Like a freeloader. “Like a turtle in the wrong shell. You live in a very different world than I do.”
Bash pulled my hand up to kiss my knuckles. “I like your shell. I want you to wear whatever shell you want and know that you are a one-of-a-kind turtle.”
While his words warmed me, I had to doubt them. “You’ve known me for a week. I don’t want you to look back and think I’m using you—” I broke off at his intense gaze.
“It’s been twelve days,” he corrected. “But you bring up a really good point. For twelve days, you’ve made me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever met, you’ve given me better advice than any corporate coach ever could, and you spent hours working to correct a problem that my company—a company I’m on the board of directors of—caused when their employee attempted to defraud you of your life’s dream. We need to figure out how I’m going to repay you for all of that.”