Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Honestly, the view could rival the Space Needle, except it’s infinitely more private.
“Wh-oa,” I whisper.
I just stop and stare and don’t notice Jenn pointing at the door first.
“It gets better! Come on,” she urges, gesturing to a glass door I didn’t notice that leads to a wraparound balcony. “Best view in Seattle, right this way. It’s even more amazing without the glass filter.”
She charges ahead, holding the door for me.
I smile sincerely for the first time since I trudged into this place.
Only, as we’re walking through the door, a gaggle of well-dressed suits are coming our way.
And I, in my infinite grace, misstep.
I go plowing straight into one of the big bosses.
“What the hell?” he whispers.
My eyes flick up.
Oh, God.
I’m expecting to find some glowering old man with silver hair, ready to fire me on my first day for insolently ramming his executive highness.
That should be fun to explain in future interviews.
I’m about to start machine-gunning apologies, but my brain catches up and processes what—and who—I’m looking at.
I recognize him instantly.
I’d know him anywhere.
How could I ever forget that moonlit kiss I’ve been obsessing over for months?
My jaw falls open and my lungs stall.
Brock’s piercing blue eyes lock with mine like lasers, and the feral scowl on his face softens.
Panic time.
Heat throbs under my cheeks as an unmistakable spark flares in his eyes.
He sees me, too.
He knows.
Holy shitting mackerel.
Didn’t I want to see him again? Back when I had a functioning brain?
Um, yes.
But not here.
Not now.
Not like this.
I’m so dead.
I’ve got to get out of here, or I’ll be the next Renee with a hospital trip.
I have no earthly idea what to do, so I grab Jenn’s hand while she looks at me like my hair is on fire.
“B-bathroom!” I spit, the word just a rush of strained air.
“Come again?”
“Umm, Jenn—remind me where the restroom is?”
“Of course. It’s just—”
I spin around and bolt back the way we came, forgetting to let go of her.
She lets out a yelp and I pull her along like a doll behind me.
Even when I let go, she fights to keep pace.
“Whoa, where’s the fire?” she whispers in my ear. “Pippa! How much coffee did you have this morning?”
“Just help me find the ladies’ room,” I yell over my shoulder.
“Oh.” Her voice goes up an octave like she suddenly understands why we’re rushing for the bathroom.
“That was him!” I whisper after a few more paces.
“Him?”
“Brock. Naked Brock. Grumpmuffin,” I mutter out the side of my mouth, hoping no one else hears.
We definitely get a few bewildered looks as we fly across the marble floor.
Then we reach the bathroom.
Jenn stops in her tracks, laughing for what seems like a solid minute. I’m looking back with dread over my shoulder, half expecting him to burst in behind us.
After all, he’s very good at unexpected surprises.
“Are you done?” I bite off.
“Let’s go.” She pushes the door open and pulls me through it. Jenn bends over to check the stalls for shoes.
This is so middle school.
“So you’re sure it was him? A hundred percent sure that was your Brock?” she says, her eyes wide and searching.
“Hell yes! That’s the guy I made out with. I knew he worked in Seattle sometimes, but to smack right into him my first morning here—what are the odds?”
She’s freaking gawking at me now. I guess that says everything.
No wild Vegas sprees for you, Pippa. You’ll lose every penny.
“What?” I snap, tapping my shoe impatiently. “Don’t tell me you think he’ll get me fired. Because if he wants to come at me for a little accidental bump, I’ll—”
“Piper, that guy...” She stops and swallows. “You don’t know, do you? That was—”
“Yeah! I know he was staring,” I cut in. “He recognized me, too. There’s your proof I’m not crazy, okay?”
Jenn just stares at me with her mouth hanging open. I want to shrink through the floor.
I fold my arms. “...what? Why are you looking at me like that?”
6
Everyone’s A Critic (Brock)
“Reschedule my day tomorrow, Mr. Dutton. I have a meeting with Ward Brandt about a concept design for a new resort in Orlando that takes priority,” I tell my assistant, annoyed that every word seems forced.
“Right-o.” Keenan taps at his phone diligently, but I catch him sneaking looks at me over the screen. “When’s the meeting with Brandt?”
“Noon.”
“Dammit, these new hires,” Creighton, the CFO, barks to me. “She wasn’t even paying attention when she plowed into you. I should have gotten her badge number.”
He looks at me like he’s expecting a pat on the head.
“Drop it,” I snarl, remembering to soften the blow too late. “It’s not important. We have bigger concerns than a few toes getting stepped on.”
The stunned look on his face tells me I’m the asshole who should take my own advice.
I still can’t fucking believe it.
Miss Sunshine.
Here.
All rolling curves and blond seduction with the same sea-blue highlights that’s had me waking up in a cold sweat for two goddamned months.