Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
She sipped her wine, making small talk with my mom, who sat next to her. My dad clapped me on the shoulder. “Did you see there’s a dance floor? Your mother and I are going to take full advantage of that.”
Maddox groaned and rolled his eyes. “You mean you’re going to throw Cami around again?”
My mom chuckled. “Only slow dances tonight, Mad Dog.” She shook her finger at my dad. “And don’t hold me so tight this time. Remember, I do need to breathe in order to survive.”
My dad clutched at his heart. “I’m wounded. Sunshine, I thought all you needed was me.”
Beside me, Paige laughed and turned to me. “I see where you get it from.”
“The charm?”
“The goofiness.”
That made everyone laugh.
I stood and held out my hand. “Let’s take a walk.”
We strolled the tables, perusing the items up for auction. I kept my questions casual but watched Paige for any sign of desire or interest. She passed the expensive earrings without a second glance and didn’t even linger by the spa packages. I decided I needed to get creative.
“I need a birthday gift for Ava,” I said. “What about that watch?”
She frowned. “Ava would never wear that. It’s too ostentatious.”
“Oh. What about that certificate for a shopping spree at—” I squinted “—Today’s Madame?”
She snorted. “I don’t think your sister wants to dress like a whore.”
I grimaced, deciding maybe I was going to strike out. Then I saw Paige’s eyes widen and a look of interest flash over her face. I followed her gaze, not surprised to see the one thing that had caught her attention was a little girl’s bed that looked like it should belong to a princess. Pink, tufted, with lights and gauzy stuff floating around it. I knew as well as Paige did that Lucy would adore it. I quickly read the details, pleased to see it would be made into a double size and the winner could pick the fabric and other elements. I knew she would never ask me for it, nor could she afford it for Lucy. But I could. We kept walking, and I did spot a great fishing rod for Pops that I placed an outrageous bid on. I also bid on a wine tasting package for four I thought Beth and Paige would enjoy. It was all I could find.
As we approached the table, I waited until Paige sat down, then I strolled over to the bar to get another drink. On the way, I stopped by the bed picture and put a bid on it so high no one would even want to try to outbid me. Then I stood at the end of the line and waited to get another tonic.
Finally, glass in hand, I turned around, bumping into a man. Luckily, the little liquid that spilled only hit my hand. He stepped back, looking askance.
“Sorry,” I offered. “Busy space.”
He brushed an imaginary splash off his jacket with a frown. “You could be more careful when you pivot. Perhaps imbibe less alcohol.”
When you pivot? Imbibe less alcohol? Who the hell spoke like that?
Unable to resist, I deepened my voice. “My sincere apologies, my good man. Might I buy you a drink to compensate for my lack of grace?”
His eyes narrowed, and I sipped my tonic to hide my smile. He studied me, so I did the same back. He was familiar, but I wasn’t sure why. He was tall and lean. He had lines on his forehead, no doubt from a perpetual frown, and although he appeared about my age, something made him look older. His eyes were cold, and his mouth pressed in a thin line. He looked displeased, and I had a feeling that was his normal expression. He had short, sandy-colored hair shot with gray, dull hazel eyes, and he stood ramrod straight. He reminded me of a drill sergeant in a bad movie. I felt as if I should salute, but I thought he might make me drop and give him fifty for my inexcusable behavior. He wore a thin gold band on his left hand, and I wondered who the poor woman was who was married to him. As he studied me, he constantly flicked his fingers on his right hand in a nervous gesture, and it hit me. He had been present when I had gone to quote a job. His flicking had stuck with me. He had been rude and cutting, demanding the owner of the company show up, not a worker. The way he spat the word was as if it—as if I—were beneath him, and it got my back up. I had shut my book and nodded, not bothering to correct him. I didn’t want his business.
“I’ll be sure to have him contact you.”
The quote I sent was astronomical, and I never heard from him again. His name appeared in my head, and I spoke it out loud.