Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Wow. I didn’t see that one coming. Not the part about Olsen and Locke. It was very obvious that they had shared a woman before. But Mercer, just saying it like that?
What the hell?
And how did he know? Does Locke go home and just… what? Fill him in on his sexual escapades?
“You’re wondering why I’m having this conversation with you?”
“I am.”
“It’s simple. I would like to take you places, Nova.”
“Ryan,” I correct him for like the ten thousandth time. “Take me where? Like… help-me-succeed kind of places?”
“No. I have no doubt you will be successful. With or without my blessing. I would like to take you out. To the city. Boston, Providence, New York.”
I just stare at him. Unsure what to say.
“Does that sound like fun? Something you’d be interested in?”
“Uh. Well. We would… sleep together?”
“No.” He laughs like this is funny. “No. You’re… I don’t want to sound disparaging, but you’re not my type, Nova.”
I huff out a small laugh. “What is your type? Just men?”
“Oh, no. I sleep with women all the time. I just prefer women much darker than you.”
Darker. I get stuck on that word. Then I squint at him. “What makes you think I’m not dark?”
“Oh, I’m sure you have your own dark side. Don’t we all? But mine is kind of specific.”
Don’t ask him, Nova. Do. Not. Ask.
“Specific how?”
He smiles at me, pushes away from the file cabinet he’s leaning against, and stands there for a moment. Like he’s thinking. “How about Friday? Would you like to accompany me to Boston?”
My heart is suddenly beating fast and I’m breathing kind of funny.
“We could start with dinner.”
“But…” I’m very confused. If he’s not interested in sleeping with me, then what the hell is this about? “Why, Mercer? Why would you want to take me to Boston?”
“I have a meeting.” He sighs. “With my mother.”
If I were drinking right now, I would spit that drink out. As it is, my gasp comes with spit. “What?”
“She’s tedious, and boring, and is always going on and on about how I am not married.”
“You want me to… what? Be your fake fiancée?” I guffaw.
Mercer stays serious. “We don’t need to go that far. I would just like you to keep her occupied. She will question you relentlessly, make you feel like you’re up on murder charges, and this will take the heat off me. She hates Locke.”
“Why?”
“We grew up together. She had an affair with his father when we were children. He caught her in a compromising situation.”
“Oh, my God. Locke caught your mother and his father together?”
“He was never the same.”
“Wait. You’re not… like.. brothers or—”
“Oh, hell no. That’s gross.”
“Sorry.”
“So how about it? Would you like to go to Boston with me on Friday?”
My mind is spinning so I’m sorta glad that I have a chance to think this over for a second so I can pull myself back together. It would be nice to get away from work and flirt with the real world for a day. Plus, the opportunity to meet Mercer’s mother?
Yeah. I can’t pass that up. I need to see what kind of woman pushes a man like this out of her loins.
“Sure. I’d love to, Mercer.”
The next afternoon I’m walking across campus towards the Square for the purpose of coffee.
Actually, I’m trying to make a conscious effort to get out of the lab during the day to socialize a little and suck up some vitamin D.
It’s summer. I should be tan, not pasty. There’s plenty of time for pasty in the winter.
So the coffee cart is my new afternoon attempt at normalcy.
Still, my thoughts are consumed with Mercer. And the project, but mostly Mercer. I’m looking forward to tomorrow. Not only am I completely intrigued about Mercer’s family and upbringing, but I need this break. An elegant dinner out in the city sounds… really nice. Even if it is slightly confusing.
Is Mercer coming on to me?
He says he not.
He says I’m not his type.
His type is dark. His type is… well, Locke. Obviously.
Who has disappeared. It’s Thursday now. Four days. That’s how long it’s been since we hooked up with Olsen. And I’m starting to get pissed about this.
Actually, I’m more self-aware than that. I’m not really getting pissed, I am filled with self-doubt. Was it a one-time thing? Am I not his type as well? Did Mercer say something, and now Locke is done with me? Did Olsen say something and now Locke is done with me?
It’s a precarious situation.
I mean, two men at once—that’s hard. But three? That’s… impossible. And Mercer counts, even though we’re not sleeping together. He counts because he and Locke are long-time lovers.
See. I knew ‘lovers’ was the right word for that guy.
Fucking Mercer. I find him so fascinating.
His type. He likes the dark ones.
What the hell, right?