Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
That’s one of the things I’m learning about Banks. He’s way more observant than anyone gives him credit for.
I mosey down the shop. What can I ask about that would make sense? My sights finally settle on an emerald-green car up on a lift.
“What kind of car is this?” I ask, pointing up.
Banks smiles. “That is a Camaro. It’s one of my favorite body styles of all time.” He grimaces. “I hate saying that because it feels like I’m betraying Betsy.”
“Your car?” I ask, amused.
“She’s my baby. Never tell her I talked about a Camaro. She’ll be crushed.”
“I promise. Your secret of loving Camaros more than Betsy is safe with me.”
He grabs me and brings me into his chest. His hands lock at the small of my back. My heart flutters like a teenager with her first boyfriend, and if I think about it too much, I might be disgusted with myself.
It’s too bad I’m too focused on him. And that I came here with a purpose.
“Am I taking your picture or what?” I ask, drawing a line down his jaw. “Because if you keep holding me like this, I’ll lose my interest in photography.”
“And gain an interest in …”
I snicker. “Pornography.”
He bursts out laughing and steps away, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He scans the screen.
“I don’t get it,” he says. “Look at this.”
I peer over his shoulder.
Unknown: Peahens prefer peacocks with the longest trains and biggest displays. They are most attracted to peacocks with the most perfect train, number of iridescent “eyes,” and even their symmetry.
“Who is sending those?” I ask.
He shrugs. “My brothers get them too. Of course, I got a peacock when Moss got a flamingo.”
I snort.
“I wanted a lion or a tiger,” he says. “Something badass. Instead, I get a bird with iridescent feathers.”
Our eyes snap together.
“A sparkly bird?” I ask, raising my brows.
“That can’t be a coincidence. But the sparkles thing would make me lean toward Jess, but he gets the texts. No one else knows about the sparkles thing except my brothers, and they all get them.”
“Even Foxx?”
Banks’s eyes narrow. “But this isn’t a Foxx kind of thing to do. It’s too … fun.”
I laugh.
Banks shakes his head. “But maybe it is. He did lose his key at the marina, and that’s very not Foxx-like. Maybe he’s breaking down in his old age.”
“It’s the easiest explanation.”
He grins like the cat that caught the canary. “I’m gonna get that bastard. I’ve been thinking of different ways to do it. I have one in mind, and it’s a little … over the top, even for me. But this whole peacock thing just sealed his fate.”
“What is it?”
“Can’t tell you.”
I gasp. “And why not?”
“Because it’s good. Really, really good. Like he might actually kill me good. I’ll need an escape route pre-planned. Maybe up my life insurance.”
I giggle. “Then is it worth it?”
His eyes sparkle. “Totally. Want to be my beneficiary? I have a great policy. Dad made me get one when I turned eighteen. Something about me not making it very long if I didn’t straighten up.”
“I don’t want your money.” I lean closer. “I want to know what you’ll do to Foxx.”
He cackles.
“Tell me. Please.”
He shakes his head. “Can’t risk it. It’s going to take a lot of work to get it to come together.”
“Did you just say come together?”
He smacks my ass as he walks away, making me yelp. “Let's get these pictures over with so I can get you home.”
Home. Not his home. Just … home.
There’s something about how he says it so freely that burrows itself inside my soul. Like I’m welcome. Wanted. He says it like I have a place there.
I’m not sure what this is between Banks and me. I can’t quite wrap my head around it. But I can’t deny that it’s a wonderful thing to feel this at ease with someone. To feel like we are friends and also lovers. That he wants me to be here, in his space—his favorite space, and in his home.
And in his bed.
He strips his shirt off and tosses it on a stool.
“Who was your photographer last time?” I ask, pulling my phone from my pocket.
“Tasha.”
My insides tighten.
He grins. “Don’t be jealous. She’s happily married and thinks of me like her child, I’m pretty sure.”
“I’m not jealous.”
He walks to me and kisses me roughly and loudly. “You have no reason to be.”
What? My brain scrambles as he disappears into his office. I have no reason to be? Why? What does that mean? While my head might be unsure, the rest of me doesn’t care.
Banks comes back with a rose. “Okay, Gloria suggested one with a rose in my mouth.”
I burst out laughing.
“I know, I know,” he says. “But I have to give the fans what they want.”
“There’s something really weird about you having a fan club of geriatric women.”