Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“You were quick,” I say.
He turns to face me from the counter where he’s pulling cups out of a paper bag. It hits me like a brick how good-looking he is. His chest seems wider than normal and his arms seem stronger—more muscular than I’ve seen them looking before. I can’t have had him in focus before my shower.
“You said before that I came into your room to thank you for something. What was I thanking you for?” I ask him.
He narrows his eyes and then hands me a coffee cup. “Oh, last night?” He shrugs. “Not sure. You passed out before I understood entirely.”
“Must have been for dealing with my dad.” My gaze hits the floor. I’m so embarrassed he had to see that. Of all the days to get two unexpected visitors. “It was really nice of you to escort him out, but you can’t give him a job. You know that, right?” I shake my head. “I don’t know why I’m saying that. It’s not like he’s actually going to call and set up a meeting.”
“He already did. A week on Friday. One thirty.”
“He called?” He must really want that job. “You’re seeing him the day after the awards ceremony? Will you be working that day?” Before Leo can answer, I groan. “He won’t turn up. But on the off chance he does, will you please not give him a job?”
“You don’t think he’ll show?”
I shake my head. “No way.” He hadn’t even messaged me. I shouldn’t be surprised, and I’m not. It’s just…
“When’s the last time you saw him?” Leo asks.
“I was a teenager. He turned up after being gone six months. He’d never left for that long before. It was the first time my mom didn’t let him swan in to pick up where he’d left off.” I shrug. “I was proud of her. He always brought a lot of stress when he came back. It felt like we finally got off this endless merry-go-round of him coming and going.”
“You deserve better than that. You deserved it then, and you especially deserve it now.”
I smile and take a sip of coffee. When I look back at him, he’s still got his eyes on me, but I don’t want to talk about my dad. “Sorry about crashing in your bed,” I say.
“Anytime.”
“You could have carried me back to my bed. Although, thank god you didn’t, I might have barfed on you. I haven’t been that drunk in forever. I think it was the tequila before I left here that tipped me over the edge. I thought it was liquid courage, but it was just liquid alcohol.”
He laughs and then hands me a pastry on a plate. He’s very civilized. It must be his British genes.
“Wanna watch a movie?” he asks.
“Sure. Is this what you’d normally do on a Saturday?”
“Nope,” he says as we head toward the couches. “But there’s not much normal about today.”
We get situated and Leo pulls up a list of movies to scroll through. I pull out my phone from where I’ve slipped it into my waistband and check my messages. There’s nothing from either Sophia or Natasha. They’re probably still asleep.
“What do you like?” he asks.
“Something quiet and peaceful with no explosions or flashing lights. Basically anything you’ll hate.”
He chuckles. “What about a TV box set binge?”
“Like…?”
“Killing Eve?”
“I don’t think I have the stomach for murder. I need gentle.”
“That British baking show?”
“I love that. Are you sure you have the stomach for it?”
“I know it’s off-brand, but I’m completely invested. I’ve only watched the first series though.”
I sit up straighter, completely charmed. “Me too!”
He shoots me a smile. “We’re made for each other. Who knew?”
My stomach flips as Leo hits play.
We’re two episodes in when he hands me a second pastry, and I don’t turn him down. “I want to eat everything in New York City right now. A hangover and a binge of British baking isn’t a recipe for calorie control.”
He laughs and settles deeper into the couch. I wonder what he’d be doing right now if he wasn’t here with me, helping me nurse my hangover. Before I can ask him, my phone beeps. It’s Natasha.
Just coming to life. My head is about to explode, but had a great night celebrating with you. Tell Leo hi and thank him for me. What a swoon-meister.
So not only did I want to thank Leo last night, but Natasha wants to thank him this morning. For being a swoon-meister—whatever that is. Maybe it’s an Ohio thing.
As I reread the message from Natasha, I get another one, this time from Sophia.
Hope you’re feeling better than I am. Say thanks to Leo. Hope to meet him soon.
That’s it. I’ve got to know what we’re all so thankful for.
“Leo, why did I come into your room last night to thank you?”