Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 151430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
She digs in her purse and hands me a sleek white card. “Use mine.”
“Thanks.” I stand. “Should we ride to the office together?”
“And be accused of more meddling?” She winks at me. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“Okay.” I plan to move, but my feet are glued to the ground. “Are you sure? He was pretty clear about how much he didn’t love me last time.”
“He was talking from his fool head. I’m confident his tongue has had ample time to listen to his heart.”
“So, if I go in and he doesn’t—”
“If I’m misleading you, you’re welcome to hold it against me forever. Also, I’ll buy you a world-class art studio with my personal endorsement. But I’m not wrong. Why would I be?” she says with a wink.
I want her confidence someday—especially now, when I’m biting my bottom lip.
“Wishful thinking?” I venture.
“My only wish is seeing my grandsons happy, and you. Go.” She motions me on with both hands.
I clasp the white card in my hands and force my legs to work.
I’m terrified and elated.
I don’t think she would have tried quite so hard if she wasn’t sure she was right. But I’ll never forget what he said.
He doesn’t love me.
He’s not the marrying type, and if he were, I’m not the One.
God. I hope she’s right, and I hope I’m strong enough for this.
The whole drive there, I’m ten seconds from taking a detour and heading home. If he’s so torn up about it and cares so much, why hasn’t he come to me?
I keep reminding myself of my conversation with Beatrice. She thinks he loves me. It sounds like his brother thinks he loves me, too.
Am I about to make a huge fool of myself?
I park in the company garage. “You can do this, Paige. If he tells you to go to hell, you haven’t lost anything.”
I stop at the cafè downstairs and order a black drip coffee and a sandwich bursting with curried chicken and bacon. I wave Beatrice’s card in front of the Brandt Ideas elevator.
It dings open.
Nerves swirl so hard my stomach lurches. I wait too long to step out and the doors close again.
Inhale. Exhale. Do this.
It’s a little surreal stepping into a sleek, quiet hallway I haven’t been in for weeks. I squeeze my eyes shut and move one foot in front of the other, stopping at his office door.
“You can do this,” I whisper one last time, even as I’m becoming a human ice sculpture.
Hello, biggest risk of my life.
With my breath stalled in my lungs, I pinch the knob and push the door open.
28
The Blueprints (Ward)
“What are the other options?” Nick asks.
“Well, we could—” The sound of a turning doorknob distracts me, and I look over his shoulder.
I’m expecting an interruption.
Definitely not the kind involving a blond, voluptuous, green-eyed angel who ignites my being with a soul-shock stronger than any booze invented.
I blink once. Twice. Three times.
Still there.
Fuck, she’s real.
She stands in the doorway of my office, wearing the same sassy smirk she used when she’d bring me death by sugar disguised as coffee and decorated with handcuffs. And there’s something nervous written on her too.
Insanity.
Seeing Paige Holly again winds me up in a way I haven’t felt since I was stomping around overseas in the military dodging sniper rounds.
That ambrosia bottom lip pulls into her mouth.
I wish it were my teeth there instead. For a second, I have half a mind to storm over and sign my name on her lips with my tongue.
Only, I’d be the universe’s biggest idiot to scare her away again.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Her voice is so quiet, an octave higher than usual as she gives us a fluttery wave.
Interrupting? I’ve never wanted to see anyone so much in my life.
I search for words to say it, my brain short-circuited, but my mouth isn’t working.
“We were just wrapping up, and he was leaving.” I lance my brother with a stare that promises a lifetime of ass kickings if he doesn’t pick his butt up and move.
Thankfully, he’s a good brother, deep down.
With a knowing smirk, Nick claps his folder shut and walks past her, muttering an “awesome to see you again, Paige.” He gives me one last raised-eyebrow look before closing the door on his way out.
It’s carpe diem, or carpe die.
She takes a step forward. If I sat up any straighter, I think I’d dislocate a disc. Her hands move to her hips and her smirk blossoms into a grin that turns my heart into a poached egg.
“Mr. Brandt, I heard you wanted to see me?”
My fucking lip curls in a lopsided smile.
She’s coy, but formal. Is she flirting, or is she here for something unrelated to—well, my miserable sleepless nights?
Either way, I told Ross Winthrope I’d humiliate myself a million times for this girl, didn’t I?