Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Owen’s low laughter at my joke makes me smile. “I have no idea how you were raised by Warren Cade and grew up to be a tree hugger.”
I roll my eyes at the phrase but don’t deny it. “If you really love your country,” I say instead, “you’ll start hugging some trees, too. And if you do plan to lead the free world, you should get a wife. Americans want bachelor reality shows, not bachelor presidents.”
“I’ve got someone in mind, but I’m still sowing a few wild oats like you are.”
“A future president is only allowed so many wild oats, and I’m not sowing wild oats.”
“You’re in Amsterdam, Max,” Owen says wryly. “The red-light district holds some fond memories. I know how wild it gets. You’ve probably got a new girl every night.”
“There’s only one girl who interests me right now.”
The silence following my statement holds so much shock, I’m immediately kicking myself for saying anything. I don’t know why I did. Maybe it’s a longing for the camaraderie we lost—the easy fraternalism we used to share.
“Wait. There’s a girl?” Owen asks. “I’m sure Dad doesn’t know that. If there’s one thing he wants to control almost as much as our careers, it’s who we marry.”
“First of all, that’s your life he’s controlling, not mine. Second of all, who said anything about marry? I just said there’s a girl who interests me. I’m not settling down until certain benchmarks are met.”
“There are things a girl has to do before you’ll settle down?”
“No, there’s certain things I have to do before I settle down. I can’t afford distractions. I’ve got too much shit to do.”
“But this girl is an exception?” The interest in his voice irritates me.
“She’s exceptional.” I pause a moment before going on. “Did Dad ever tell you about that day we fought? The protest in Arizona?”
“Just that you tried to manipulate him to get the pipeline rerouted.” If I didn’t know better, I’d think that was admiration in Owen’s voice.
“Manipulate.” I huff a harsh laugh. “I tried to get him to do what was right, but of course, principles are negotiable with him. It’s an old argument that I don’t want to have with you. There was a girl there. One of the protesters.”
“You fucked her?”
The bald question pinches a frown between my eyebrows. “She was seventeen, and I was a graduate student, Owen. No, I did not fuck her. Jesus.”
“But you wanted to,” Owen says with wicked insight.
“Anyway,” I bulldoze over the innuendo in his voice, “she’s here. It’s been like four years, and by some crazy coincidence, she’s here in Amsterdam.”
“So now you want to fuck her.”
God, so badly.
I forbid the words from leaving my mouth.
“I want to get to know her. I’m not doing relationships or anything like that. After Antarctica, it’s the Amazon. Then after that, we’ll see, but I can’t do the strain of a long-distance relationship.”
“I can’t say that anyone has left the kind of impression on me that this girl has left on you.”
“I didn’t say she left an impression.”
“This is me, Max. I’ve known you since before you knew yourself. I hear impression all in your voice.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m saying maybe she’s not a wild oat,” Owen offers. “Maybe she’s a wild dream.”
CHAPTER 12
LENNIX
“This,” Kimba says, tipping her head back as our tour boat cuts through the canal and under the arch of a bridge, “is the life.”
Kimba, Viv, and I sit at the far end of the sloop. The guide, or skipper as he suggested we call him, stands at the other. A hostess checks on us, ensuring we’re still plied with Moët, gin, Perrier, heavy hors d’oeuvres, and sandwiches I can barely get my hand around.
“Agreed,” Viv slurs, half-drowsy, half-drunk on cocktails and sunshine, “I’m so glad we chose Amsterdam for our last hurrah.”
Last hurrah because when we get back to Arizona, we finish the little that’s left of our final semester and real life begins.
I push away all thoughts of the decisions I still have to make about my next steps. I don’t want to think any further into the future than tonight. A slow, secret smile pushes the corners of my mouth. Why think of the future when the present holds Maxim Kingsman? A literal sigh slips past my lips at the thought of him. What’s next? A dead swoon?
“All that sighing and grinning happening over there”—Kimba waves a finger at me like it’s a wand—“means it must have been good last night with the doctor.”
I try to control my smile, but it just keeps getting bigger. I cover it as much as I can by taking a long sip of my jenever, which really is quite growing on me. Kimba and Viv have been asking about last night, and I’ve only given them crumbs so far, holding the details close.