Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 121992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Do you want me to go, too?” Billie asked when I turned back toward her. “You sort of rushed your friends out.”
“I did?”
She lifted a knowing brow.
So I came clean. “Women can’t help but fall for Holden, whether he’s singing or playing the drums. It was only a matter of time until you tossed your panties at him if I let him stay.”
Billie chuckled. “Do I seem like the panty-tossing type to you?”
I sighed. “Owen’s grandmother hit on Holden after she saw him play the drums once.”
“His voice is beautiful, and I’m sure he’s a very talented musician. But I’m not interested in Holden.”
“No?”
She shook her head.
“How about any of his friends? Because I’ve heard dudes who can bake a cake are way better in bed than the ones who can sing.”
Billie’s eyes sparkled. “That cake was pretty delicious.”
Luckily, my daughter ran back out to the kitchen before I pushed things too far—like suggesting I smear the rest of the cake all over her body and lick it off.
“Daddy, can we go to the bridge now?”
“In a few minutes, sweetheart. Why don’t you go get a sweatshirt?”
“Okay!”
Saylor ran back toward her bedroom, and I realized what I’d done.
“Hey, kiddo, don’t take everything out of your dresser to find one sweatshirt. Just pick something on top.”
Billie laughed. “You know your daughter.”
“Last week I told her to grab a pair of shorts. I was finishing up a project for work on my laptop. When I went into her room, it looked like a bomb had exploded in a kid’s clothing store.”
“That’s what my apartment looks like most of the time.”
I chuckled. “Women.”
“So where are you two off to? Saylor said a bridge?”
“Oh yeah. We’re going to check out the Ward’s Island Bridge. It’s a tradition my dad started when I was born. He’s an architect, too, and he loved to show me different structures around the city. Every year on my birthday, he took me to a different bridge. We actually haven’t missed one yet, and I’m twenty-nine.”
“Really?”
I nodded.
“How long until you run out of bridges? What are there, like thirty in the city?”
“Close.” I smiled. “There are two thousand and twenty-seven of them in the five boroughs.”
Billie’s face wrinkled up. “You’re kidding, right?”
I laughed. “Nope.”
“Oh my God. You must think I’m an idiot.”
“Not at all. Honestly, most people would guess the same. Everyone knows the main ones—Brooklyn, Verrazano, GW, Queensboro…”
“Where’s the one you’re going to see tonight?”
“It’s up on a Hundred and Third. It’s a footbridge that crosses over the Harlem River to get to Ward’s Island. Why don’t you come?”
Billie hesitated. “It’s your tradition with your daughter. I don’t want to intrude on your time together.”
“Trust me, Saylor would be thrilled. It’s always just us two.”
“I don’t know...” She still wasn’t sold.
“Do I need to have my daughter ask you so you’ll say yes? You act like I’m asking you to go to the gas chamber.”
Billie laughed. “I do not.”
“Prove me wrong, then, and come. I’m not asking you on a date this time. We can be friends, can’t we?”
She bit her lip. “Fine. Yes, we can be friends.”
“Great.” I winked. “But just to clarify, I sometimes look at my friends’ asses.”
CHAPTER 6
Billie
It was my favorite part of the day—the quiet time in the morning at the shop before any of my staff arrived. I’d come in early to organize some of my equipment and straighten up the place. The only problem was now I had way too much time to think without people here. And all I could seem to think about lately was Colby Lennon.
After our trip to the Ward’s Island Bridge the other night, I’d thought he might’ve called or texted. But it had been three days, and nothing. Not a word. The question was, why the hell was I expecting a call or visit when I’d made it clear I only wanted to be friends? He was giving me what I supposedly wanted: space. Friends shouldn’t be expected to call so soon.
The trip to the bridge had been pretty chill. It was cute how into the whole thing he was, explaining the architecture and history. And Saylor seemed to eat up every word her dad said, even if she probably couldn’t understand half of it. As if a four-year-old cared about a sixteen-million-dollar renovation project. Or the fact that the bridge had been covered in yellow and featured in The Wiz back in 1978, in the scene where Diana Ross and Michael Jackson sang “Ease on Down the Road.”
You’d think Saylor did understand and appreciate it all, though. She’d smiled at everything. I hadn’t wanted to crush Colby and tell him I didn’t care all that much about bridge history. But I did enjoy the passion in his eyes when he spoke. That I could’ve watched all day. And honestly, I enjoyed spending time with him and Saylor, regardless of what we were doing.