Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
His grin flashes wide. “Done. Now be a good girl and take this off.” He plucks at my bikini bottom.
“We can’t.” I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “I just got a text from Stella. They’re going to be here in ten minutes.”
We’d seen our friends on and off for months. Stella, Sophie, and Libby have been helping me set up our business. And while Libby isn’t a working partner, she’s been active in recruiting talent. The plan is for us to work out of both coasts, and we’ve had lots of FaceTime meetings. But this is the first time everyone is coming to stay with us all at once.
My birthday is tomorrow, and we’re all celebrating.
“Fine. I’ll claim that ass tonight.” Rye flops back with a long-suffering sigh, but his expression is happy. He’s missed his boys. A lot. It is no surprise to me that they’re planning to work on new material once they get here.
“We’ll see.” He totally will. I’ll make sure of it.
Rye grunts but then sits up straight as though startled. “I forgot something…” With a quick kiss on my cheek, he rolls over and hops up. “Don’t move.”
“Wasn’t planning to.” Smiling to myself, I lift my hands overhead and settle down with a sigh. But Rye returns quickly, carrying a black lacquered box big enough to hold a loaf of bread.
He appears almost shy as he hovers by the edge of the lounger. “Your birthday present.”
Hauling myself up, I eye him then the box, not having a clue what’s in it, but loving that he’s brought me a present. He does that a lot now, though mostly with little things: pastries from my favorite shop, fashion magazines he knows I like—the warming lube was really for both of us, but I appreciated it just the same.
“But my birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”
“I know.” Again comes the strange hesitation in his voice, as though he’s nervous. Expectation lights his eyes as he hands it to me. “But I wanted to give this to you when we were alone.”
I run my hands over the silky, smooth surface.
“Go on.” He gestures with his chin to the box. “Open it.”
“I’m opening it,” I insist, fighting a smile.
He hunkers down next to me, thick thighs stretching his worn jeans. His nearness distracts me for a moment, and I find myself leaning into his warmth to press a kiss on his neck, but the impatient yet amused look in his eyes brings me back to the task.
Lifting the lid, I find the insides swathed in pink tissue paper. It takes me a moment to discover my prize but when I do, my breath goes short. Hands trembling, I lift out a perfect open-toed sandal made of pale pink leather with a slim rose-gold metallic heel. What makes the shoe utterly beautiful is the pair of delicate laser-cut leather angel wings covered in rose-gold glitter and rhinestones poised on the back of the heel as though they might soon flutter and take to the air.
“Oh, my.” I know these heels. They are Sophia Webster Evangelines. I’ve admired them from afar, but they seemed too frivolous, too ethereally pretty, to buy. And yet the fact that Rye bought me the loveliest pair of princess heels I’ve ever seen has my vision blurring and my heart swelling. “They’re perfect,” I get out.
His expression fills with tenderness as he runs a finger along my forearm. “Wings, Bren. So you’ll never forget how far you can fly.”
Oh, hell.
I set the magical heel back into the box, then grab him, hugging him fiercely, my face buried in his neck. “With you in my life, I’ll never forget how far we both can fly, Ryland Peterson.”
He squeezes me back in a grip so strong, it almost hurts, before rasping, “I love you too, Brenna James. I love you too.”
And that’s really all that matters.