Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I turned my phone on and walked blindly behind a blue shirt in front of me as I waited for my screen to fill up with apps and notifications. The first one to come in was a text message from Mom saying she was running late.
After slipping my phone back into my pocket, I ambled through the airport and froze when I noticed the barstools Ryan and I sat on not even a week ago. That day, I’d been nervous and frustrated, and it felt silly now how confident I’d been in my plans. Now I didn’t know anything about myself, it seemed. I wasn’t sure what kind of person I was, who I wanted to be, or what I was doing this for.
Without much else to do, I ambled toward the first empty stool and sat, choosing in my head whether to talk to the old guy on my left or the large-cheekboned woman to my right. I didn’t need to talk to anyone, but when I set down my bag, I realized how worried I was that another man would talk to me first.
“Are you flying out somewhere?” I asked the woman, deciding I’d had enough of men for the weekend.
She didn’t seem eager to talk to me and narrowed her blue gaze with pursed red lips that considered me for a moment. “Visiting. Got here early for my flight ’cause my boyfriend had to work.”
I nodded, wondering if that would be me, older and dating years after my prime. She seemed to have enough Botox to fight away the age chasing her, but I wasn’t sure whether it was working. “Where are you from?”
“Jersey.”
Her long O’s should have told me that, but I hadn’t put much thought into it and chose not to turn it into a joke. Her unenthusiastic demeanor was quickly killing my desire to talk any more about anything.
“You?”
I looked up in surprise. “I’m from here. I went to Dallas for a conference. And a job.”
“Oh,” she drawled, reassessing me with her icy gaze. “Moving away for the first time, are ya?”
I shook my head. “No, I didn’t get the job.”
“No kiddin’? No problem. You’ll get another.”
“Hey, can I ask you something?” The words left my lips before I could weigh whether I wanted to ask at all.
“Sure. Whatcha got?”
“It’s about my job, actually. I didn’t get it because the guy interviewing me made a move on me, and—”
“What do you mean, he made a move? He smack your ass a little? Or did he corner you in his office?”
Her eyes gleamed with the gossip I was feeding her, but she was just a stranger I’d never see again, so I didn’t let it bother me. “Neither. He took me to dinner—”
“What, like a date?”
“No, like a business dinner. Like to celebrate the job.”
“Thought you said you didn’t get the job.”
“I didn’t. Well, I did, but he came on real strong, and I was uncomfortable. I left him there, and he hasn’t called me.”
“Do you want him to?”
“That’s the thing.” I eyed my fingers splayed on the surface of the bar. “I’m not sure whether I do or whether I should take the job even if he did call.”
“Sweetheart, you’re in the real world, and nothing stands in the way of a woman on a mission.” She swiped at her bangs, which hung right above dark eyelashes the color of coal. “You can take the job, but he’ll take your dignity if you do. That’s all fine if it’s fine with you.”
“But that’s not who I am.”
“Then find another. Once you let go of your dignity and break your boundaries, you better not cry about it later. If you don’t want to go down that road, don’t. And don’t let someone convince you to, either.”
That seemed like the most obvious response, but in another sense, it didn’t seem like the response I was looking for. Why? Was I really okay with degrading myself like that? “Isn’t there a way to take the job without dealing with that kind of pressure?”
She tsked, and a hearty laugh followed. “Sweetheart, that ain’t the world you’re livin’ in. You want to go somewhere, you gotta adapt. Otherwise, you gotta choose another direction ’cause no one’s gonna do the fighting for you. Not unless you got yourself a big, strong man who don’t take no for an answer. You got somebody who’ll take care of this guy for you?”
I laughed at the implication. “No.” But I still imagined Ryan when I’d told him about Andrew. I didn’t doubt he would have taken care of things for me if I’d asked him to, but I didn’t want anyone to take care of me. At least, not like that. I could imagine him making an effort, though.
“Looks to me like you’re thinkin’ of somebody.”