Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Wow,” I muttered. “Nice digs.”
Gavin peeked into the bedroom, and a slow smile came over his features. “It’ll do.”
I shivered at that look. One bed.
I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t considered that I’d be in a hotel room with Gavin King, all alone for a couple of days. I wasn’t sure that I’d considered the fact that there would be only one bed.
But of course, there was.
I sauntered past him, brushing his shoulder. “I call the right side. I always sleep on the right side.”
He laughed. “You’ll have to fight me for it, Bowen.”
“I’m scrappy. I’ll win.”
“Maybe,” he said with that unrelenting smirk. “I look forward to you trying.”
I rolled my eyes at him to keep back how good that inviting quality sounded in his voice. “What’s next?”
“My aunt and uncle are throwing a party tonight at their place.”
“Time to meet everyone.”
“Are you ready?” he asked sincerely.
I popped open my suitcase and withdrew a pink sundress. “Going to be fine. I’m great with parents.”
He chuckled. “I have no doubt.”
Sometimes, I thought I was better with parents than I was with my dates. Maybe because I’d been raised to say yes, ma’am and no, sir until it was ingrained in my very being. When I saw an authority figure, my entire body snapped right to attention. This was a hundred percent nurture, and I’d never found a way to get around it.
It was probably the reason that Dr. Varma had decided I should take over his business when he wanted to retire. All those yes, sirs had really stuck with him. Even though I might or might not have broken the heart of one of his daughters.
As we drove up the winding drive toward Gavin’s aunt and uncle’s house, that same thing started to happen to me again. I sat up a little straighter. I checked my hair and makeup in the mirror of the Wrangler one of his cousins had dropped off for him to drive around while I was getting ready.
“I never thought I’d see you in a Jeep,” I told him as I snapped the visor back into place.
“I used to drive a truck.”
I leaned my chin on my fist on the center console. “Was it lifted?”
He winked at me. “Not a true West Texas boy without a lifted truck, Bowen.”
“Do you have pictures? I must see this.”
“I hope they burned them all.”
“Aww, I bet you were adorable. Did you have boots and a hat and belt buckles and shit?”
He huffed. “Of course. Who do you think I am?”
“Do you still have them?”
“We don’t talk about that.”
I laughed. “Oh my god, you do. Please tell me you’ll wear boots and a hat for me.”
“Why? So you can make fun of me?”
“Hey, I was raised in Texas. I can appreciate a man in his Sunday best jeans and a hat.”
Gavin shot me a conspiratorial grin. “Are you saying you’re hot for cowboys?”
“As if you aren’t,” I said with a wave of my hand.
“It might shock you to learn that I’ve never hooked up with a cowboy.”
I shot him a filthy look. “Oh, I have.”
“I bet you ate them alive.”
“Good ole boys make for tasty treats. As long as you don’t stick around long enough for the misogyny.”
Gavin choked. “You’re something else.” Then, he nodded his head toward the drive. “We’re here.”
I faced forward again, and my jaw dropped. I’d known that Gavin was of the King oil dynasty. I’d known. Obviously if he fit in with his other richie rich friends in New York. My richie rich friends. But Upper East Side was different than Texas. This was acres of land without an oil rig in sight and a three-story mansion on flat property with its own river and horses grazing freely. This was Texas rich. Exactly the kind of family my parents had wanted me to associate with all those years ago.
“Whoa.” I popped open the door and jumped out of the Jeep.
“Yeah,” Gavin said, coming to stand at my side. “Last chance to back out.”
I glanced up at him in surprise. “You’re the one who begged me.”
“I know. But I’m still a gentleman.”
“A gentleman?” I asked with a laugh.
Gavin King was a rogue and a rake and a playboy. Gentleman was the last thing that anyone would ever call him.
“That’s adorable, King. Let’s do this.”
He tucked my arm into his, and we headed up the drive together.
As we got closer, I noticed the white roses blooming from verdant bushes all around the house. The scent was so sweet, almost cloying. Someone had an incredible gardener to get roses that stunning to grow.
“What’s with the roses?”
Gavin grinned. “It’s my family flower. White roses. The Dorsets, who my family runs the oil business with, they’re red roses. Sort of a long-standing rivalry.”
“Well, they’re beautiful. Whoever they hired to do them has a great touch.”