Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
I grip my forehead.
Why do I constantly overestimate my abilities? I had a matter of days to pack everything I owned and get it into a storage unit before my landlord changed his mind about letting me break my lease early. I figured it’ll be okay. Orlando isn’t that far. I can come back and sort through things if I really need them.
Clearly, I didn’t factor in gas prices. Or how hot storage units could get in the summer in Florida. Or the idea of climbing through piles of boxes with no room to move to find, what—a specific dress?
Yeah, no. I glance at the bed again.
Four days in paradise isn’t going to work with a few shirts that were packed for comfort and not to impress, four shorts, two sundresses, and a bikini.
I sigh and sit on the chair in the corner of the bedroom.
The room is a mess. My entire bag is dumped on the comforter. Files, my computer, a notebook and pen are on the floor in the corner that I’ve turned into a pseudo-office space. Worst of all, sticky notes are stuck in random places for things I need to do and can’t forget.
Except I probably will forget because they keep falling off the surfaces and getting thrown away.
I close my eyes. I’ll get it all sorted after I come back. My eyes pop open. But first, I’m going to need clothes.
A knock on the door makes me jump. Sara’s head pokes around the corner. She surveys the mess and makes a face.
“How do you live like this?” she asks.
“Carefully.” I stand. “This isn’t my idea of a good time, though. I’m in limbo, remember?”
“True. Now come into the living room where there’s a place to sit so we can discuss my genius idea. Grab your computer.”
“Why do we need my computer?” I grab my device and follow her down the short hallway.
“Patience.”
“We’re discussing patience?” I tease. “Let’s start with yours.”
“Don’t be snarky.”
She would’ve been proud of my snark yesterday.
My mind sashays its way to Maddox and our interaction in his office. And to the innuendos. And to the flamingo text. What the hell was that?
“What are you grinning about?” Rebecca asks as we walk into the room.
“Nothing.”
I sit on the sofa next to Rebecca as Sara takes a chair across from us. On the table between us is a notebook. I set my computer on top of it.
“This is very Baby-Sitters Club of us,” I joke.
“Obviously, I’m Kristy,” Sara says. “So let this meeting begin.”
We all laugh.
Rebecca tucks her legs up under her bottom. “For once in her life, Sara has an idea that I can fully get behind.”
My stomach tightens. “That makes me very, very apprehensive.”
“Oh, shut up,” Sara says. “When have I ever lured you into something bad?”
I lift a brow.
“Don’t answer that.” Sara crosses one leg over the other. “Let’s stay focused, please. We don’t have much time.”
“Really? We don’t have much time?” I smile at her dramatization. “Are we saving the world from monsters from outer space or what? Have you called Jeff Goldblum?”
Sara slow blinks.
“Never mind,” I say. “Continue.”
“Great. I would like to begin by saying that I talked to my boss and tried to get out of work to go with you on your honeymoon.”
A bolt of hope fires through me. That would be amazing. “You did?”
When she looks at me, the drinks in my imagination spill into the sand.
“I can’t get off.” She rolls her eyes. “Okay, that was proven by my boss today to be a lie. Twice.”
“Sara.”
She laughs. “But I can’t get the days free to go with you. I tried, Ash. I really did. I even took my boss to lunch and offered … Well, let’s say I offered things he’s had before but really enjoyed.” She winks. “But even that can’t get me out of the meetings.”
“While I appreciate your efforts,” I say, as Rebecca snorts behind me, “I would like to speed this conversation up to the point where I find out what you’ve been plotting behind my back.”
She bites her lip, then lets it pop free.
“We know you’re okay going alone,” Rebecca says calmly. “And we know you’d probably have a good time. But apparently, Sara heard that you were considering asking Warren Cartwright to be your travel companion.”
Sara gags.
I’d forgotten about that.
“I don’t know why everyone is all against the idea,” I say, even though I’m against it too. “It’s not like I was going to marry him. But he would be fun and help me get rid of this sexual frustration that’s making me nuts.”
The same frustration that’s making me want to take things to another level with Maddox, for crying out loud.
We texted on and off last night—well into the morning. Our exchanges were fun and playful. We talked about flamingos and the real estate market and stories from high school. He told me about Moss almost getting arrested, and I told him about the night when I almost got arrested, courtesy of Eton’s mother—a woman as sour as her son.