Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
I frown, but before I can ask her what she’s up to, the elevator door pings open and Sonia waves goodbye with a merry, “Good luck!”
Unease prickles across my bare arms, making me feel like I walked through a spider web, but I step into the elevator anyway and hit G for the ground floor. Whatever Sonia the Prank Master is up to, I don’t have time to dig deeper right now.
A few minutes later, I step into Masala and scan the small bar area, where a giant blue Buddha watches over the bearded man mixing drinks for a smattering of customers. There’s a couple I recognize from the neighborhood laughing it up near the fountain in the corner, but all the other patrons gathered at the bar’s high tables or perched on barstools are women.
Deciding Jack must still be in transit, I cross to the bar and claim a seat at the far end, near the garnish station. I usually find the smell of orange and lemon slices soothing, but tonight I’m too on edge. I pull out my phone to check if a text from Jack might have slipped through unnoticed, when a pair of very stylish—and very large—heels appear in my peripheral vision and a voice asks, “Is this seat taken?”
I glance up, an apology for needing to keep the stool free on my lips, but the moment I see the person standing with a hand braced gracefully on the bar beside me, the words are lost. My eyes fly open wide, my jaw drops, and a strangled sound gurgles from my chest. I don’t know whether to be shocked, amused, horrified, or a mixture of all three, but I know the moment I meet Jack’s expertly made-up smoky-eyes that everything is going to be all right.
I don’t know much about romance, but having an alpha male without a cross-dressing-curious bone in his body gear up in drag for me is absolutely the most romantic event of my life.
Bar none.
“What on earth?” I ask, my lips curving.
“I didn’t want to tell you I’m on your side again, Eleanor,” he says, brushing his long hair over his shoulder. “I wanted to walk my mile in your shoes and show you.”
“Wow.” I blink faster as my gaze skims up and down, taking in his silky brunette wig, deftly applied makeup, and figure-skimming green dress. He’s wearing a stuffed bra of some kind, in addition to panty hose, and should look ridiculous. But even though he’s one of the tallest “women” I’ve ever seen, he doesn’t.
“You’re a surprisingly pretty woman, Mr. Holt,” I say as he settles into the seat next to mine, making my heart lift as the familiar smell of him rushes through my head.
God, I’ve missed his smell. Nine days without it is too much.
“Thank you.” Jack sets his small clutch on the bar and reaches out to take my hand, making me grin wider even as the back of my nose begins to sting. “But I’ll confess I had help. Spencer really is a genius with makeup.”
I laugh, Sonia’s request for a picture making sense now.
“I read your article,” Jack says in a softer voice.
“Yeah?” My throat locks up and my pulse races as I realize this is it, the moment I find out if Jack feels the way I feel. Considering he’s literally walked here in women’s shoes—a size thirteen or fourteen satin pump to be exact—things are looking good, but there’s too much at stake not to be on the edge of my seat.
I lean forward, gaze locked on his as he continues, “You weren’t plain old wrong, the way you said in the article. I was wrong. I should have given you more time instead of letting fear call the shots.”
“We all let fear call the shots sometimes. I certainly did.” I take a deep breath, tongue sweeping out to dampen my lips as I confess, “I shouldn’t have left the office the way I did. I should have stayed and talked it out. Or at least taken your calls after that. I was just…overwhelmed. My feelings for you, all the stuff I was uncovering, the lies Blair told… I regressed, and I’m sorry.”
“I understand.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “I fumbled the pass, El. I should have put myself in your shoes a week ago. I’m sorry I made you wait. Can you ever forgive me?”
I smile even as my throat goes tight. “I think that can be arranged.”
“Yeah?” His glossy lips curve in that vulnerable just-for-Ellie grin that’s become so precious to me. “And how about being my Capital-P Person? And letting me be yours? Because you locked down my heart the first time you swaggered out of the bathroom with a sock stuffed down your pants.”
“Well, since we’re doing confessions…that first time wasn’t a sock. It was a shower cap stuffed with TP.” I laugh, but the sound fades to a sigh as he continues, saying the words I’ve been dying to hear.