Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I told him I had a busy week and would think about it, buying myself a bit of time, but I already crave to see him again. Bryn has gone on a couple of dates from the Match.com account Becka opened for her. If things are too messy with Ian, I can join her on there, I suppose.
But the thought makes my stomach cave in on itself. For months I haven’t been able to think of anyone but Ian. It’s hard to imagine anyone or anything being able to change that.
Let’s see if you can bear a few days without him, Sara. Maybe you’re stronger than you think and can step back and evaluate things, I tell myself that weekend as Bryn and I head to Brooklyn in an Uber, to the warehouse that will be formally House of Sass.
We arrive ready to work. Bryn looks like she means business, even though I heard her cry this morning, just like every other morning since the Big Breakup.
“You’ll get over him,” Jensen tells her when he comes in to help. He sees her bleary eyes and hugs her.
“Of course. I’m already getting hit up on Match.com.” Bryn tries to wave off her breakup as if it’s not important. “I’m such a good catch.”
“Damn right, love bug.” Jensen rumples her hair.
We start unpacking boxes, cutting open the tape with knives, pulling out clothes, and getting them up on the racks.
“You’re good at this,” I grumble at Bryn with playful, open resentment. She’s on her third box and I’m still on my first. I tear a nail and curse. “You owe me a manicure. Pedicure too,” I warn, sucking on my broken nail.
“You’re not even using your feet!” She laughs. “I’m good at this because we used to do this at my parents’ department store before it was sold.” She winks, but the nostalgia is clearly evident in her voice.
“And now look at what you’re going to have, all for yourself.” I motion to the huge warehouse that we’re setting up to be her modern-age clothing store. It’s going to be fantastic.
“Not just for myself. I have an investor, remember.” Her eyes shadow when she mentions Aaric Christos.
“And you could have had him, too, if it weren’t for his floozy bimbo ex—”
When Christos walks into the warehouse, I trail off.
Bryn freezes when she spots him by the door. We all stare, and though I’ve only seen him on the internet, I know this is the man who’s broken her heart by the way he’s staring at her and she’s staring at him. Oh he’s gorgeous, all right. Powerful-looking. Confident.
My Workaholic is hotter, I catch myself thinking, and push the thought aside.
Bryn blinks furiously and continues opening boxes, moving more awkwardly now that he’s here.
As if noticing her jumbly movements, Christos approaches Bryn and asks, “You okay?” He seems genuinely concerned.
I watch them in interest, still sucking on my nail.
“Yes.” Bryn is doing well at hiding how flustered she is, but I can tell, because she’s my roomie, that she’s battling to stay composed.
“Good. Be careful. Where do you want these?”
She swallows and avoids making eye contact as Christos points at a couple of boxes. “Over by the windows. But you don’t have to move them. I can open them here and put the clothing on the racks,” she rushes on.
Ignoring her protests, Christos scoops one up like a pro and carries it across the room. He returns and reaches for Bryn’s cutting knife and starts opening boxes for her.
I’m shocked. He’s a businessman, and businessmen don’t do these things. But something about him doing filthy labor makes me realize he wasn’t always a businessman.
Soon, a dozen men under Christos’s command arrive to open boxes. The racks start filling up across the warehouse. We finish hanging the merchandise in a few hours rather than the expected full day.
“I suppose we’ll have time for the salon tomorrow night after all,” I’m happy to report to Bryn. But she’s hardly paying attention or worrying about my cracked nail and desire for a pedicure and manicure. She’s watching Christos.
“Thanks for helping,” she tells him.
He winks down at her. “Still a hell of a box lugger.”
She smiles in farewell, and I can feel the air crackle between them. I step back and grab Jensen so we can all leave. After Bryn steps out, I pull Jensen toward the door, giving Christos a black don’t-you-dare-play-with-my-friend-again look.
Bastard.
I’m so mad that I fume for the rest of the day, wondering why the asshole keeps looking at her like he cares when he clearly doesn’t care that he’s broken her heart.
* * *
I think about my own possible future heartbreak when I hit the salon with Becka and Bryn the next evening. I try to push Ian Sexy Suit Ford out of my mind, but he’s always lingering somewhere in my thoughts. Even as I chat on the phone with another dog walker and send her over on a test walk to see if she works well with Milly.