Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
“Where in the world is Carson Hayes?” Rose’s voice is warm and filled with genuine delight. And her greeting? Just a game we play.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I answer with the same sincerity. I like Remy, but I know, like me, he’s always up to no good. Money to make. Empires to crush. But Rose is pure goodness, wrapped in unadulterated sass. I respect the husband. Like and admire the wife. Dote on the kid. Love the fuck out of the whole family.
“I’m gonna guess you’re still in the States, given you were in Chicago a few days ago.”
“Rose, you disappoint me. Didn’t you once berate me for flying from Rome to Tahiti for a twelve-hour thing?”
“I think it was the thing I objected to, not your carbon footprint.”
“Why do you always assume it’s sex?” Even if she’s not entirely wrong. An Ardeo weekend in Tahiti meant it was business and pleasure, even if I couldn’t stay for both purposes.
“Call it a sixth sense. I was about to say I’m sorry I couldn’t be there that night, but now I don’t think I will.”
“Aw, Rose. That’s almost an admission that you miss me.”
“Rocco misses you. And I’ll admit to having insider information to your whereabouts because I spoke to Aimee,” she playfully snipes.
“My secretary?” I find myself frowning.
“She’s you’re executive assistant, dumb ass. Without her, your organisation would fall apart.”
“And you spoke to her why?”
“Carson, I speak to her all of the time,” she retorts, exasperated. “You’re pretty hard to pin down.”
“That’s not true,” I reply silkily. “I just need the right incentive. And a promise that I’ll have access to the handcuff keys.”
“Nice, Carson. I do so love our conversations when they turn smutty. But I didn’t call Aimee about you. I called because she’s getting married and I wanted to ask her about her gift registry.”
“Since when is she getting married?”
“Since she’s been dating the same guy from the age of fifteen. Do you not listen to anything anyone says?”
“Quarter after two,” I answer, just to hear her growl.
“I swear, you are a lost cause.”
“But the love of a good woman is all I need to fix me, right?”
“I’ve given up on that score,” she replies a touch caustically. “You’d better buy Aimee an amazing gift, all the shit she puts up with from you.”
“As if I’d do anything else.” I find myself smiling as I think of the “gift” in the deep drawer of my desk when Tucker’s less than sage advice drifts through my head.
The couple who plays together, stays together.
It’s probably bullshit.
It’s definitely bullshit, considering where the advice came from. Or rather who.
“But that’s not all you called to say, was it? Spit it out. To what do I owe this honour of a call?”
“Can’t I call my friend for no reason?”
“You can, but you usually don’t. Check-ins are more my remit.” Hence her greeting. Where in the world is Carson Hayes. But thank fuck, we’re back on track, even if my lead-in is weak.
“There seems to have been some confusion with the mail, and I was hoping you could tell me Fee’s last name.”
“That’s weird, but it also reminds me, I had the funniest conversation with Lulu.”
“About plants?”
“No, about you kissing her mother,” she says utterly deadpan.
“That is weird. And something I think I would’ve remembered.” And do. Almost constantly. The way her chest rose and fell with her breath. The warm press of her lips. The way she’d fed her hands into my hair as though to anchor me there as she took her pleasure.
“So very strange,” she continues, this time with an air of inconsequence. “You say you haven’t kissed her, and she says she’s sure you don’t swing that way.”
Oh, angel, you kind of overshot there.
“Which makes me feel like I’m living somewhere between denial city and crazy town, because—”
“Rose,” I bite out, my reflection grim in the darkening windows, my scowl is reflected back at me. Crazy town, it is, if I’m gay, and she’s partying at Ardeo. She fucking wishes. “Are you going to tell me the woman’s last name?”
“Sometimes, you can be such an ass. I told her that too because it was only a matter of time before she found out herself. She’s not like me, Car. She’s softer. Gentle. So you’d better be nice to her.”
“I’ve been exceedingly nice to her.” If only she knew. I’ve tried being nice, and that didn’t work. And if she’s at Ardeo, all bets are off, nice or otherwise.
“Want to elaborate on that tone?”
“Rose,” I growl for a second time.
“It’s Abernathy, asshole. Fee Abernathy. And if you have her mail, you’d better get it to her soon because she’s found somewhere to live.”
I set that information to the side—where she resides is a matter for consideration beyond tonight.
“One more thing—”