Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I’m Ricky Bobby in front of the camera, and my hands—and my face and my body—are not my own.
Luckily, Grant can fill any silence like it’s his job.
“Noah, did you know I puked five times on Friday?”
Oh, good grief.
“I did not know that,” Noah answers with an amused smile. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yep.” Grant nods. “I didn’t puke on Saturday or Sunday or today. And I hope I never puke again.”
“Well, that’s good news.” Noah meets my eyes. His mouth is still turned up at the corners, visibly entertained by my son’s lack of filter. “How is Seth doing?” he asks, and I instantly think about his unanswered text message.
“He’s good. Back in school today. No major punishment besides spending a little time with the school counselor,” I update before a small grimace finds a home on my lips. “And I’m…uh…I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to text you back over the weekend, but I appreciated you checking in on him.”
“Well, he wasn’t the only one I wanted to check in on,” Noah says, his eyes still locked with mine. “I—”
“You like alligators, Noah?” Grant cuts him off in that way only a five-year-old can. “I love ’em.”
Noah doesn’t balk or even hesitate to reply. To be honest, his enthusiastic response is somewhat surprising. “Oh yeah! Gators are cool. They’re fast too. They move like twenty miles per hour in the water and weigh over a thousand pounds.”
Do all men just, like, know things about alligators? I’m so lost.
“Yeah!” Grant agrees eagerly. “They don’t live here in New York, though.”
“Bummer,” Noah replies, shaking his head.
“It sucks,” Grant corrects, making my eyes grow in size again.
“Grant,” I chastise softly.
He rolls his eyes. “Well, it doooes.”
Noah’s attention shifts to me again, and I’m grossly unprepared for the smile that crests his perfect, kissable lips. “He’s got a point, Sammy. The lack of alligators does suck. It’s the only real way to put it.”
I snort. “I always found the lack of alligators kind of appealing.”
Grant scoffs. “You’re such a girl, Mom.”
Noah’s smile turns almost mischievous as he mutters in a low whisper, “Now that is something I find appealing.” And he follows that up with a wink. At me.
Gah. Those winks of his are potent.
“Noah!” a woman says from our side, pulling me up just short from saying something stupid like, “I think your being a man is pretty cool too.”
I would have been thankful for the interruption, if she weren’t one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen. Her nearly perfect fitness-babe body is strikingly obvious in her neon-green bicycle shorts and sports bra and light jacket, and her makeup-free face looks better than mine when I have it slathered on. Even her blond hair is on point, looking healthy and effortlessly bouncy in her ponytail.
And just like the redhead from the bar the other night, she has the expectant face of a woman who came here to meet up with Noah. He likes the fact that I’m a woman? Yeah, I’m sure he does. And women seem to like him too.
What’s that phrase? Once bitten, twice shy. Just exactly how wary are you supposed to be after life takes two bites from your ass?
Probably pretty damn cautious.
My sister is so right. Noah Philips is the catch of the century. And apparently, every woman in New York knows it.
The brown Labrador retriever on Blondie Supermodel’s leash tugs her straight into the middle of our circle, his tail wagging as he greets Dolly. And I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks as Noah glances back and forth between us.
“Kendall, this is Sammy and Grant,” he eventually introduces. “Sammy, this is Kendall and her good boy, Chanandler Bong.”
I’d probably take the time to be entertained by her dog’s name if I weren’t feeling so…flighty. Right now, everything inside me is shouting, Run! Get out of here as fast as you can!
But I don’t miss the way Kendall’s face jerks to Noah’s for a brief second before coming back to meet my eyes. Though, I have no idea what the silent exchange means.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sammy,” Kendall responds as Chanandler Bong starts to lick Grant’s hand, making him giggle. “And I apologize for our abrupt interruption.”
Despite her politeness, the urge to flee the scene is too compelling to resist. But since I can’t break out into a jog without looking like a total weirdo, my mouth ramps up to full speed instead. “Oh, no worries! You’re not interrupting!” I exclaim, my voice all kinds of strange and excitable. “We were…just leaving anyway. Yeah, we were just getting ready to head out! We’ll get out of your way, and you can get to…your…well, whatever.”
“Sammy—” Noah starts to say something, but I cut him off at the knees.
“No, no.” I shake my head and hold up one hand. “We’re running late anyway.”