Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“I’ll drive you home, but I can’t stay. That call was bad news.”
She searches my face, her sharp intelligence returning, but she knows better than to ask.
When we reach the apartment, I walk her to the door, and pull her into my arms, kissing her. I sense her disappointment at ending the date early, but she doesn’t complain. Even though I already gave her twenty-five hundred for her salon rent, I stuff some more cash in her purse without her noticing. Spoiling this woman is my new favorite thing.
“Goodnight, baby. Be good.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and offers her lips, but the line between her brows as she turns away tells me not to go.
Fuck. I wish I could stay. I really do. But the Feds just subpoenaed all my financial records. That’s on top of the IRS audit.
The mayor called five times.
So even though I sense Lexi pulling back, which means running off on her tonight is a mistake, I kiss her one more time and leave.
Chapter Eleven
Lexi
Two days later, I walk out of the therapist’s office with a bounce in my step. Bobby was right—it seems like the EMDR completely liberated me from the trauma of the car accident. I sat in the therapist’s office and described the accident, moment by moment, all the while moving my eyes slowly from side to side. The therapist had me imagine the disturbing images of the event and conjure the feelings. When I stayed with the eye movements, all the terror lost its power over me.
Although I made a follow up appointment, I left completely transformed, so I doubt I need any further help. As if to confirm my positivity, when I check my voicemail afterward, I find a message from human resources at Stellar saying they want to schedule an interview.
“Yes!” I whisper out loud as I walk to the bus stop.
I dial the number, and by a third miracle, schedule the interview for Tuesday afternoon, a few hours after the massage Bobby’s secretary set up for me. I’ll be relaxed and ready to impress!
I call Gina. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“I got an interview for the job!”
“Awesome! That’s fantastic, you deserve it, girl!”
“I’m so excited. And it just so happens that Bobby set up a massage for me that day, so I’ll be cool, calm and collected.”
“A massage, huh? I love that for you.” Gina sounds impressed.
“I know. He takes good care of me. Did I tell you he paid off my rent at the salon, too?”
“What did I tell you? He’s a keeper.”
“Well, not really.”
“Why, what do you mean?”
“Nothing. Just that he’s not available. Unless I want to be essentially his call girl for the rest of my life.”
“Oh. Gotcha. I’m sorry.” She’s silent a moment, and I wish I hadn’t mentioned it. The reminder of my non-relationship status with Bobby is a bit of a downer on an otherwise bright day. “That kinda sucks, doesn’t it?” It’s like it finally hit her that her fix for me–setting me up with a sugar daddy–had a catch.
“Yeah.”
“Well…don’t worry about it for now. Just enjoy being treated like a princess. You deserve a little pampering after all you’ve been through over the last year.”
“Yeah, thanks. That’s kind of what I arrived at, too. It’s good for now. Just not a permanent thing. Okay, I gotta go. I should call Bobby.”
“All right, take care, babe.”
“You too. Bye!”
I end the call with Gina and dial Bobby’s number, my pulse picking up speed, the way it always does when I interact with him.
“Hey, doll.”
Wings in my chest flap at the sound of his deep rumble. “Hey! Thank you so much for setting up the therapy appointment for me. I feel completely transformed. What a difference!”
“That’s great. Glad to hear it.”
“And I just found out I got the job interview—you know, for that trainer position?”
“Of course I remember—the reason you took portfolio pictures. Congratulations. When is it?”
“Tuesday afternoon.”
“Fantastic. I’ll take you shopping for clothes, unless you already know what you want to wear.”
Um, wow. This guy. He really does love to play sugar daddy. And I am not complaining. “No—uh—I’d love to go shopping with you. Thanks!”
“Listen, bambi, I wish I could take you out tonight to celebrate, but I’m up to my ears in shit right now. I will try to get over later, if I can.”
“Sure...no problem.” I’m irrationally disappointed. I didn’t expect him to take me out to celebrate, but now that he expressed the desire, I totally want it. Miss it. Need it.
“Okay, I’ll text you if I can make it. Bye, doll.”
I end the call quickly because the disappointment hits me like a steamroller, flattening my mood. I draw a deep breath and exhale.
Gah. I’m getting way too needy with this guy. Our agreement was very specific–he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t get to make demands or expect boyfriend-like things from him.