Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I walk toward him, and lifting the paper bag containing the sandwiches and travel mugs filled with coffee, I say, “Morning. I have coffee and breakfast for the long drive.”
His smile widens, an expression I can’t place, softening his eyes. “Morning. You look beautiful.” He takes the bag from me. “I only had one coffee this morning, so you’re a live saver.”
I let out a chuckle, and before I climb into the passenger side, I ask, “Are you also a coffee addict?”
“Yes. Without caffeine, I can’t function.” He places the paper bag on my lap before he shuts the car door and walks to the driver’s side.
As Callan slides behind the steering wheel, he says, “I’m actually looking forward to today.”
I grin at him, the excitement in my chest growing tenfold. “I’m happy to hear that.” I hold out his travel mug with coffee. “Have some before you start driving.”
He winks at me as he murmurs, “Yes, ma’am.” His tone is low and bordering on husky, causing tingles to spread through my body.
When he takes the travel mug from me, our fingers graze. There’s a spark, leaving me a little breathless.
Holy hell, that’s hot.
I have to tear my eyes away from him and keep myself busy by pulling our sandwiches from the paper bag.
After taking a couple of sips, Callan places the coffee in the cup holder, and starting the engine, he pulls away from the curb.
“Can I put on some music?” he asks while focusing on steering the car through the Saturday morning traffic.
“Sure.”
I watch as he selects a pre-programmed playlist, and soon, emotional instrumental music plays softly in the background.
Before I can think of something to talk about, Callan asks, “How was your week?”
You don’t want to know.
“I resigned from my job at the gallery.”
“You did?” His eyes flick to mine. “Do you plan on focussing on your own art?”
It feels so good to talk to someone who’s supportive of my choices. “Yes. I’ve booked stalls where I sell some of my older paintings. I’m also setting up a website, and as soon as I’m done with the collection I’m currently working on, I plan on visiting galleries.”
“I’m impressed.” He shoots me a grin. “You have no doubt you’re going to be successful.”
Warmth floods my chest and I can feel myself blushing. Clearing my throat, I ask, “How was your week?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “We’re busy making arrangements for the company's ten-year anniversary.” His eyes flick to me before returning to the road. “Did you manage to work on your painting?”
“Yes, I’m done with the plaster phase. Tomorrow, I’ll start painting it.”
“I can’t wait to see it once you’re done.”
Why can’t my parents show an interest in me like this?
I instantly ban the negative thoughts from my mind and focus on Callan. “Do you have any hobbies?”
“Work keeps me busy, so I don’t have time for hobbies,” he answers.
“If you had time?”
He shrugs and seems to think for a moment before he says, “I can’t think of anything.” A smile curves his mouth up, and his eyes settle on me for a few seconds before focusing on the road ahead again.
“You don’t mind the long drive, do you?” I ask. “Sorry, I should’ve asked earlier.”
“I don’t mind at all,” he murmurs. “Like I said earlier, I’m looking forward to getting out of the city. Is there something specific you want to see or do at the fair?”
“The carnival and farmers market are at the top of my list. After that, we can just walk around.”
“Sounds good.” He gives a curious look. “Are you going to go on rides?”
“Definitely.”
He lets out a chuckle. “I get motion sickness.”
My eyes widen, and I quickly say, “You don’t have to go on any of the rides.”
“For you, I’ll try a couple.”
I appreciate he’s willing to try, but the last thing I want is for him to get sick. Keeping the conversation light, I tease him, “Okay, we can go on the teacups.”
I’m rewarded with a playful scowl. “Teacups, my ass.”
Chapter 14
Callan
After I find a parking spot at the fair, and we’re walking toward the entrance to get in line for tickets, I glance at Lillian for the hundredth time.
There’s a bruised expression in her gray eyes and dark circles beneath them.
She must’ve had a stressful week.
I wish we were close enough so I could ask her whether she’s okay.
She’s constantly smiling and seems excited, but it doesn’t hide the shadows in her eyes.
And it fucking bothers the hell out of me.
She might be a client, and I’m just her escort, but my attraction for her makes it hard not to take a deeper interest in her.
As we fall into line to get tickets, there’s an urge to wrap my arm around her shoulders so I can pull her closer to me. Instead of giving in, I settle for placing my hand on her lower back.