Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
"Oh, God no." She slaps a hand across her chest. "I would never do that. I'll let myself in if you're not home."
That wouldn't be possible since my front door only opens with my handprint and she knows this. Why is she even bringing it up?
"Like I said. Toss the shirt." I've spent too long talking to this woman. This is what happens when you let your family’s demands overtake your life. You make bad decisions that haunt you. I give my ex a brief nod and turn around to signal to Lauren that I'm ready for lunch, only she's not standing behind me.
She's halfway through the door of her building. "Shit."
"Is something wrong?" my ex asks, pretending she doesn't know.
I don't bother to answer, which is what I should've done when she first started talking to me. I sprint after Lauren, catching her at the elevator bank.
"Thought we were having lunch," I say. The number on the elevator closest says it's on floor six.
"I really don't have a lot of time. Besides, I have a couple of phone calls I need to make, and this might be my only break today. I'll see you in three weeks."
She darts inside the elevator and jabs a button. Probably the one to close the door and shut me out.
I grab one of the doors and force it open. "You didn't eat lunch."
She glares at my hand. "I'm not hungry anymore."
Her stomach growls in protest, but she just juts her chin out and jabs the elevator button again. The door jerks in my hand. I don't want her to leave like this—hungry and pissed—but I don't think charging up to her workplace is going to make her feel soft and warm toward me either. Better to regroup and attack at a different time.
"When do you get off?"
"Why?"
"I'm going to bring you dinner to make up for missing lunch." I try for a cajoling tone even though that's not my thing.
"I've got plans."
I bristle as all attempts to sweeten her fly away. "With who?" I demand.
"None of your business." She folds her arms across her chest and looks at me as if I'm losing it.
Maybe I am. The thought of her eating dinner with another guy makes me want to tear the door off the track.
An alarm bell sounds in the back of my head, telling me I should cool it. She's already leery of me, and now I'm acting like a caveman. Modern men are cool with their women having men friends. Modern men whose knuckles don't drag on the ground don't mind other penises hanging around their women. Modern men don't use possessives like their or mine.
I take a deep breath. I'm not trying to control Lauren. I don't want to own her. I just want to...make her mine.
Shit.
"Um, sir, is there a problem with the door?"
I turn my head to see the security guard about five feet away. And the alarm bell wasn't sounding in the back of my head. Holding the elevator door open this long has set off an actual alarm.
Inside the car, Lauren looks like she wants the floor to open up and drop her to the basement. I'm embarrassing her.
Good job, Harris.
I let the door go. "No. Sorry about that."
The door slides shut, and the car takes off and with it all my progress with Lauren. No, that's unfair. I'd pissed away my progress before she got on the elevator.
Chapter Eight
LAUREN
Of course that’s his type. The slicked-back ponytail and the slim-fitting skirt with the four-inch red-bottomed shoes belonged to a woman I will never be. He’s slept with her. His clothes are mixed up with hers. My stomach roils in revolt.
I shut my eyes. Why am I even upset? I've always known Griff is out of reach and not just because he's in a relationship with someone. Simply because I had my hands in his hair for forty minutes doesn't mean shit. I need to screw my head on, forget Griff, and get some money to bail Mick out.
I march off the elevator and enter the salon through the staff entrance. The door slams against the wall with a bang. Chloe looks up from a bowl of soup.
"Back from lunch already?"
"I wasn't hungry." My stomach grumbles again. The big traitor.
Her perfectly penciled eyebrow shoots up. "Did you get in a fight with the hunk of man meat?" She turns to her left where Stephen, another stylist, is sitting and thumbing his screen. "You should have seen the man that took Lolo out to lunch. He was built like a rock and had the face of an angel. His voice was so deep, too. I nearly came from just listening to him."
"That's nice." Stephen doesn't look up from his phone. He's not interested in any rock-like formations. He likes them young and slender because he claims they are the most bendy.