Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
The truth is…I love how relentlessly he chases me and how over-the-top he is about it. For the first time in my life, I feel like someone worthy of being pursued. He makes me feel that way.
Sometimes, I even let myself dream of what it'd be like to let him catch me. But I always wake up alone in my bed again, facing the realization that some dreams just aren't meant to be. Gran and Bets are my family, my responsibility, and it'd break my heart to fall for Zayne only for him to decide he's not ready to spend the best years of his life chasing after two crazy eighty-year-olds. And I wouldn't blame him for that. He has a business to run and his own life to live. Just because I chose this life doesn't mean I get to choose it for anyone else.
Refusing to date him is easier than getting my heart involved in something I know it won't survive. It's better for everyone to leave my heart out of the equation altogether. It can't be trusted if it's anything like my mom's, anyway.
I can't tell Camila that, though. She's one of the bravest people I know, willing to take big risks to mold her life into exactly what she wants. I don't think she'd understand why I'd rather never leave the ground than touch the sky and then have to give it up.
"We just aren't compatible," I say.
"Says who?"
"The universe." I snort, causing a piece of my hair to fly upward. "He has a company to run. I have Gran and Bets to worry about."
"You're worried he'll bail once he realizes you guys are a package deal," she says gently, immediately grasping what I don't voice.
"I just don't think my life is relationship-compatible. That's all."
"Emma."
"It's fine, Camila." I paste a smile on my face. "Honestly. I love taking care of Gran and Bets. And Zayne is not my type anyway. He's way too bossy for me."
He is bossy. And capable. And outspoken. And a million things I've never been. The man says exactly what he's thinking, regardless of who might hear him. He doesn't make apologies for who he is or care what anyone thinks. He's exactly who he is, no more and no less.
"Uh-huh," Camila says, not buying that for a minute. "He's not your type so much that you're hiding under the desk."
"I'm not hiding."
"Oh, yeah?" She glances up and then looks back down at me, a mischievous smirk on her face. "Then you won't mind if I'm sitting here talking to you when he comes back in, right?"
"What? Why? Is he at the door?" I squeak, trying to peer through the holes along the bottom of the desk to see. I can't, darn it all. We need more spy-worthy desks. These suck.
"Yep. He'll be walking through the doors any minute now."
"Oh, my God. Go!" I push the chair away from the desk, my heart pounding. "Before he figures out that I'm under here."
"Told you that you were hiding," she says, her laughter floating down to me as she rises from the chair.
Well, crap. I guess I walked right into that one.
"There you are."
Oh, crap on a cracker.
I spin around, holding my thermos like a deadly weapon as that familiar deep Southern growl sounds behind me. Dread shoots through me as soon as my gaze lands on Zayne stomping across the breakroom in my direction. So does an overdose of desire.
If looks could kill, I'd be dust. And if his jawline were any sharper, it'd be dangerous.
Sweet Baby Jesus. Some people really get all the luck. And by some people, I mean Zayne Carmichael, specifically. If he's not God's favorite, he's definitely in the top three.
The man is gorgeous with his messy hair and steely gray eyes. Our breakroom looks like a freaking closet with him filling it. And it's not his size, which is impressive enough, but his presence. He commands attention without even saying a word.
"What are you doing in here?" I squeak. Yes, squeak like I've got something stuck in my throat. "You aren't supposed to be in here."
"Neither are you." One dark brow rises as he smirks at me. "But you've been avoiding me, so here I am."
"I have not," I lie.
"No? So you just so happened to be out of the office every time I've stopped by for the last week?"
"Camila needs lots of things." I inch along the counter, keeping space between us. "I'm her assistant. Assistants assist by running errands and getting things. It's in the job description, Zayne."
"Uh-huh. And skipping Adrian's last book signing because I was there? How do you explain that?" He keeps prowling toward me, his eyes locked on my face.
"I had things to take care of. Personal things," I clarify. "It had nothing to do with you." Which is actually true. Gran had her annual MRI.