Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
“It feels like I can reach out and pick up the city.”
“Yes, that’s how we’re selling it. Close enough to admire the view with none of the noise.”
“Are the igloos heated?” she asks, turning back to survey the area. The pool glitters in the lights draped above.
“Of course. They’re aimed at our winter travelers. We spared no expense, courtesy of yours truly.”
She wanders closer to one of the igloos and places her hand on it. The frosted glass doesn’t reveal what’s inside, and I nod at her to open the door.
“Go on. It’s important you’re familiar with everything.”
She unhooks the door and swings it open, but just as she’s about to duck inside, Arlo whips around the corner and crashes into me.
Lukewarm liquid splashes my chest.
Fuck.
“Arlo!” Salem yells as he rips away again, his empty hot chocolate cup rolling around on the ground between us. Sticky not-so-hot chocolate seeps into the fibers of a suit that nearly cost me five figures. “Patton. Mr. Rory. I’m mortified.”
Even the look on her face can’t stop me from reaching my limit.
“Miss Hopper, are you sure you can control your son?” I grind out as she pulls me inside the igloo, perching her coffee on the walnut table and pulling tissues from her purse.
“I can. I will. This… this isn’t how he behaves,” she says miserably, dabbing at my shirt. “I’m beyond sorry. Forgive me.”
“Maybe try fewer apologies and more lessons in manners next time. What if I was a guest?” I snarl.
Her hand pauses, just for a second, and she looks up at me.
Yes, I already know I fucked up.
“Maybe if you could try a little empathy, this wouldn’t feel like the apocalypse,” she snaps back. “I told you. I didn’t want to bring him to a business meeting. I had no choice. It was bring Arlo or miss my first day at a new job.”
“And your son’s behavior is my fault now?”
Fury ignites her eyes.
“Mr. Rory, he’s five.”
“And? Even five-year-olds must have some idea how to act when they’re raised right.”
The second it’s out, I feel like shit. Her wounded expression, those big hazel eyes, bore straight into me. Sadness and outrage live there.
“What are you saying? Try again. I told you, he’s a good kid. He doesn’t act up like this. He just isn’t used to coming to work and he’s bored out of his wits.” She looks down at the tissues in her hands, which haven’t helped the spill at all. Then she sighs. “God, what’s the point? This obviously won’t work.”
She tosses the mess aside and grabs one of the folded towels on the rack. Perfect for someone after a swim in the pool or, apparently, after swimming in cocoa.
She works on wiping the stain, biting her lip as she focuses.
This weirdest déjà vu pulls at me again, but why?
Where do I know those stormy brown eyes?
When has a woman like her ever touched me?
A second later, while she sucks her bottom lip in frustration, it clicks.
Shit.
Shit.
A thousand times, shit.
Lady Bug?
The most memorable one-night stand in my life, crackling with lightning chemistry, and here she is again, my manager and intern.
Fuck, I didn’t know life could be so cruel.
The startled glance she shoots me still seems annoyed, but there’s something different flashing in her eyes now.
I wonder if she’s figured it out, too, even if I never gave her my name or phone number.
My skull feels like it’s caving in.
“Enough.” I reach out and take the towel from her. The stain is at the mercy of the dry cleaner now, no matter what we do. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll buy a new suit if I have to—and towel.”
“If we got it early enough, it should come right out,” she says. “If you just dab a little—”
“I don’t need your help with my laundry, thank you.” Harsh, but necessary. Otherwise, I might say something fantastically stupid. “Why don’t you dip out early, considering the circumstances? You’ve had enough introduction for one day, and there’s nothing here that can’t wait for tomorrow.”
For a second, her eyes narrow, like she wants to argue back. Then her expression goes slack.
“Okay. Maybe that would be best. I’m sorry again for the first impression. I really blew it.”
I wish her hyper-caffeinated kid was still the reason why.
Only, the kid who doused me in lukewarm chocolate has nothing on a freak coincidence dredged up straight from hell.
“Next time, you’ll make a better one,” I growl. Lame as hell, sure, but I have to start un-fucking the damage somewhere. “I have another meeting to attend, so I’ll see you soon.”
I don’t bother offering to show her out when she knows the way. And if she doesn’t, she’ll figure it out.
I need to clear my fucking head and figure out if there’s a way to salvage this chaos without mauling my pride—or hers.