Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
He pulls his cell out of his back jeans pocket and gets busy. “Here we go. It says to soak it in lukewarm water and a little washing liquid.”
I nod and start in on the buttons on my way to the laundry. A bucket is filled with water and the washing liquid added. Hopefully getting it treated quickly helps. My mind is one hundred percent on the silk shirt. It doesn’t even occur to me that I am now walking around half naked until I walk back out into the living area. Dean freezes like a deer in headlights at the sight of my beige lace bra. The nicest underwear I own. It is sort of sheer and definitely pricey. He looks at me, and I look at him, and neither of us do anything for the longest moment.
What breaks the thrall is the woman banging on the glass door leading onto the deck. Wow is she glaring at us. There is actual fire in her eyes. Her face is also horribly familiar. Like home page of online magazines familiar. Long, dark hair and a shapely body.
I cross my arms over my chest to cover the essentials. Not that she couldn’t see even less on a beach.
“Frankie?” asks Dean, his mouth hanging open just a little. “What are you doing here?”
“Freezing my ass off.” The woman outside huffs and puffs, her breath steaming the cold air. “Can you let me in, please?”
Behind her stands Ziggy, one of the security guards. Both of his hands are taken up with the woman’s designer luggage. Guess Lena was wrong about Dean’s ex-girlfriend’s name starting with G. Though F is close. Frankie Manning is a real live actual supermodel. And I had the nerve to try to romance her ex. Mind you, if they are exes, it would be nice to know exactly why she is here.
Before opening the door, Dean passes me the hoodie he discarded earlier, which I appreciate, and gives me an unreadable look.
Frankie stomps inside in her own four-inch heel booties, throwing her sheepskin jacket on the couch and pausing to pop a piece of sushi into her mouth. Unlike me, she is at home in the heels and makeup and everything. She makes it work. “You’re never going to believe this. I had a shoot booked with Richard on the coast, and I told him not to hire me if he was hiring Molly. The bitch had the audacity to take a swing at me last time we had to work together, and that is not okay. She needs help from a professional. But I turn up and guess who’s there?”
Ziggy deposits the bags inside the door, nods, and disappears back out into the night.
“Molly?” asks Dean.
“It’s like you said. Not only is his name Dick, but he is soul deep committed to being one.” Frankie turns to me with a curious gaze. “Who is this?”
“This is my new friend Jude.”
“I’m so sorry for disturbing your date,” she says, stealing another piece of sushi off the platter. The way she pops it between her lush lips without disturbing her lip gloss is real talent.
I cross my arms over my chest once again, despite the hoodie. “Oh, it’s not a date. We were, um, we were just having dinner.”
Dean gives me a glance. No idea what it means.
“Not a date, huh?” asks Frankie, finishing chewing and focusing her full attention on Dean. “Because, hon, I was hoping we could talk. I’ve been rethinking some things lately. If we could talk in private? If you don’t mind, Jude?”
“Frankie,” says Dean with a frown. “This isn’t right. You can’t just barge in here and take over.”
“Don’t give me that look, hon. It won’t take long, I promise.”
Okay. I can read his look this time. It’s an apologetic one. “It’s fine,” I say, heading for my bedroom. “Nice to meet you.”
“You’re so sweet, Jude!” Frankie gives me a finger wave. “See you later.”
Now Dean is shoving a hand through his dark hair. If anything, he seems frustrated. But he doesn’t say another word.
As soon as I get behind my closed bedroom door, I slump dramatically. Then I get the torture booties off my feet. My poor innocent toes. Now it would be a lie to say I am not disappointed. But there’s no way I’m going to compete for the man’s affections with a freaking supermodel. Not a chance. They’re obviously still close and talk often. Maybe they were just on a break. It happens. Or maybe they have an open relationship. Whatever. It’s none of my business.
I take a selfie before beginning the process of removing all of my makeup. Because Lena did a great job. I look amazing. There’s every chance I needed reminding of this fact, how I can dress up and have a life outside of my job. Of course, my heart and groin are sad about Dean. It’s amazing how quickly you can get carried away and start imagining happy ever afters. Especially with the help of hormones. But oh well. I can choose to see the positive side of this experience and view it as a wakeup call. Might be time for me to make some effort and contact a few old friends. See if they want to go out Saturday night.