Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
It took serious willpower not to ask Carlos to turn the car around. But what would I say? “I like you?” or “I have a crush on you?”
No, wait. I didn’t—
Yes, I did. I had a crush on Trent Mackay, which was totally understandable. He was hot and sexy. And he’d been kind.
That kindness confused me. I wasn’t used to people who were nice…just because. Maybe he had an agenda. If he did, though, he’d have taken me up on my London invitation. His contract with Charlie ensured his silence, but it also prevented me from doing him any immediate career-oriented favors. I couldn’t get him a job at the studio without making waves. Not for a few months, anyway.
Maybe it was a good thing he’d turned me down. Charlie would have gone nuts, and my PR people would’ve ended up getting involved. Talk about messy.
So I was left with a quasi-mystery. Was it possible that he liked me…for me? I couldn’t see it. My reputation preceded me. I was egotistical, dismissive, had a one-track mind, and zero tolerance for stupid. In short, I was terrible. C’est la vie. At the tender age of forty-eight, I wasn’t going to change anytime soon.
That was okay. Besides, infatuation didn’t fit in my schedule.
I had to deal with reality.
My reality involved packing, a few phone calls, and dinner with my boys. I knocked out the first two items on my list early so I could spend quality time with Char, Ollie, and Gray. And of course, Char’s boyfriend, Ky, and yes…Justin.
Thankfully my early departure didn’t come up in conversation over barbecued chicken and veggie kabobs at Gray and Justin’s house. I’d covered my tracks last night with brief good-byes to a few key guests.
And in spite of how it might sound, it really wasn’t that odd that I’d left my house while fifty-plus people partied away. In some ways, my house was more of an event hall than a home. It was great for entertaining, but it wasn’t exactly cozy. For large celebrations, I let the catering staff take over. For smaller ones, Charlie did the honors.
It was better if I stayed out of the way. I barely knew my way around my own kitchen, and I had a hard time remembering which buttons activated the sound system. That was okay. My duty was to act as a host. Which I’d done. Then I’d turned over the rest of the evening to Charlie’s capable hands. If he’d had any issues, he would have called me.
But the party had gone off without a hitch. The food was amazing, the drinks were plentiful, the toasts were heartfelt and warm…especially mine. And other than a few highlights, like Justin doing a cannonball in the pool fully dressed, I hadn’t missed much.
“It was so funny, Dad,” Ollie assured me around a bite of chicken. “Jus played air guitar and jumped off the ledge. His boots weighed a thousand pounds when he got out.”
Justin ruffled Ollie’s hair as he passed him on his way to the refrigerator. “More like a hundred pounds, Ol. Want ’em?”
“Your water-logged boots? No, thanks. Besides you’re way bigger than me. I doubt we’ll ever have the same size foot.”
That was true. Oliver was a bit of a pipsqueak. He was taller than Charlie had been at his age, but he was still on the shorter side.
Like most preteens, some days he cared very much that he wore glasses and didn’t fit in with the popular crowd. Other days, he acknowledged that he was better off hanging around friends who shared the same interests and not kids who were overly impressed with his connections. He was shockingly well-adjusted for someone who had bedrooms in four different households. In case you’re curious…at my house, his mom’s, Charlie’s, and Gray’s.
Justin pulled salad dressing from the fridge and shook it as he rounded the island. “You never know. My foot grew three sizes when I was a couple of years older than you and—Chester!”
We all turned as Chester darted through Gray and Justin’s open sliding glass door with a slipper in his mouth.
“I’ll help you,” Oliver volunteered, racing after Justin.
“Wait. You need bait.” Ky grabbed a dog biscuit from the pantry and joined the round-up.
The sounds of laughter and barking drifted inside. It was warm and sweet…a true homey vibe. Miraculously, it didn’t make me want to run for the hills in a fit of misguided pique. Then again, my mind was all over the place. I had a script to read, research to do, and meetings to prepare for, various travel details, and…
I couldn’t stop thinking about Trent.
I stared into space with my elbows on the island, revisiting the best parts of last night and this morning. No, it wasn’t just the sex, it was…him. I liked the contrast of his gruff exterior and his homespun wisdom. I liked that a man who could probably bench-press my body weight owned a prized collection of books. I was extraordinarily attracted to his “take no prisoners” vibe and I felt a little swoony when he quoted Shakespeare after discussing the finer points of Thoreau. I liked that he—