Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Best compliment ever. It was easy. I was happy to do it. And you seemed like you needed a Good Samaritan in your life.
Before I can even think about returning to invoices, the phone vibrates again. Fine, fine, I get it. I’m irresistible. I click open her new message, giving her a name in my texts, then reading.
* * *
Miss Cute Devil Butt: I would ask if it was that obvious I needed help, but I know it was that obvious I needed help. This is a week of pure I-can’t-even-ing. But these earrings take away some of the sting. I’m going to wear them to an appointment this morning. For luck!
* * *
See? Maybe some guys Callie dated hate me and think I hoodwinked them, but this sweetheart of a woman thinks I’m a rock star. And, well, it was fun to help her. I write back.
* * *
Milo: Nice work turning ‘I can’t even’ into a gerund.
* * *
Miss Cute Devil Butt: Gah. First soap, now grammar. I, too, love grammar.
* * *
I haven’t laughed like this in a long time. I should get back to the invoices, but I allow myself one more text exchange.
* * *
Milo: I had a feeling you liked grammar and words after you slid from enraged to infuriated when we were talking about your incensed dog.
* * *
Miss Cute Devil Butt: I like big vocabularies and I cannot lie.
* * *
Groaning, I lean back in my chair, dragging a hand across my chin. What am I doing? Exactly what I said I wouldn’t—I said I wouldn’t get distracted.
Helpless to the buzz building in me, I turn to Trudy for advice. She’s watching me with her big brown eyes. “Girl, maybe I could ask her out on one date. That’s all. No strings. What do you think?”
My pooch tilts her head to the side. She can’t even believe I’m asking.
I hold up a hand in surrender. “Fine. I won’t. I’ll just text her one more time. Then, I’m done, I swear.”
* * *
Milo: You know what they say about a man with a big vocabulary . . .
* * *
Miss Cute Devil Butt: No. Do tell.
* * *
Milo: He has a big dictionary.
* * *
I have work to do. I should get moving. But I’m too eager to hear back. I’ll allow myself one last exchange, then I’ll turn my phone to silent. And her response lands.
Miss Cute Devil Butt: That’s a book you can read over, and over, and over . . .
* * *
I laugh out loud. She is too much. Would it really ruin my no-romance plan if I took her out for that cake and beer date? Followed by some sex and orgasms? I know she likes cake. I bet she loves orgasms. It’d be a perfect two-fer.
Then I’d be on my way.
She seems like she’d be cool with that scenario.
I’m considering the perfect reply, when Miss Cute Devil Butt texts me one more time with, Gotta go. Thanks again.
Okaaaay.
That’s a buzzkill for ya. There will be no cake, beer, or coming.
8
Mistress of Cheek
Veronica
* * *
My mom is calling me back, so I jump away from the text string and swipe up on FaceTime, smiling nervously. She’s the one I need to talk to, not that clever, thoroughly distracting man.
I’ve wanted to get to know him for a few months now, and at last, I am.
Finally, my crush is moving out of crush territory and into Maybe a Little More Land.
But first things first. I need Mom’s help. “Hey, Mama Valentine. Would you hire me if I came into your store like this?”
I give her a ta-da pose in my living room. I’m wearing a cute summery dress with a daisy pattern on yellow fabric. The flower faces are winking, so that feels perfect. A little sassy. I looked up Bikes and Blooms on social, and the shop has a fun and irreverent vibe, though it could use a touch more cheek in its online presence.
What do you know? I’m the mistress of cheek, and I plan to arrive at the interview armed and ready with new material for the store’s social media.
As Mom ties the strings on her green apron, she gives me a quick once-over. “I’d probably make the decision based on your knowledge of plants, soil, and sun, as well as your personality, but sure, the dress is cute.”
I huff. “Mom, I have all that. I’m just asking about the dress. Is it appropriate? You’re an employer and all. Is this okay to wear to a job interview? I’m not the best judge.”
“It’s adorable and professional,” she says thoughtfully, as she adds a bow in the middle of her apron. She’ll be opening her garden shop any minute now.
“Thank you,” I say, relieved. Someday, maybe even someday soon, I won’t need all these wardrobe affirmations, but today is not that day. “Just think, at last, I can use all that flower and plant knowledge you drilled into my head growing up.”