Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
This is really happening. I’m about to ask a complete stranger to help me hire a prostitute, which is not only scandalous but completely illegal.
If I’m caught, I could go to jail for this.
Or prison. Maybe for years.
And yes, Weaver is probably right—the police likely have more important things to do than prosecute a shy, twenty-something woman looking for a safe way to learn about sex from a respectful, vetted, disease-free older man—but still!
This is not like me! Not at all.
“Ms. Kincaid will be with you shortly.” Raven gestures to a plush leather chair in what appears to be a normal office, albeit with some very provocative art on the walls. I don’t think a single person in those paintings is wearing clothes, and I’m pretty sure one of the women is making out with a minotaur. “Would you like something to drink while you wait? Water? Tea? Glass of wine? Bourbon on ice?”
“No, thank you.” My voice is a strangled squeak, but I force a smile and try to appear chill as Raven closes the door.
The second she’s gone, I sink into the chair and drop my head into my hands, pulling in deep breaths, struggling to remember everything Weaver told me about how to handle myself tonight…
One month earlier….
It’s Thanksgiving at the Swallows’ compound and all my best friends are here to share the end of the day with my family, the way they have every year since we were kids. Elaina and Sully do an early afternoon meal with their families, then head over to my place for our traditional evening meal, dessert buffet, and game night.
As usual, the chardonnay is flowing freely and the turkey is running late. But unlike seasons past, I’ve spent the past two hours watching my girlfriends canoodle with their sexy boyfriends and feeling increasingly alone.
This is it.
I’m about to be left behind.
If I don’t find a way to grow up, glow up, and find a relationship of my own, I’m going to be the odd person out for the rest of my life. Which would be fine if I didn’t want a sexy boyfriend, but I do.
I really, really do.
Watching Gideon’s big hand curve around the small of Sydney’s back as they stand chatting with my cousins in the living room is enough to make my entire body ache with longing. And when Weaver kisses Sully’s forehead before gathering their appetizer plates and heading into the kitchen, I’m seized with the powerful certainty that I have to do something.
Now.
Right now.
Following Weaver into the kitchen, I’m relieved to find my mom and aunts still in the sitting room, killing time playing bridge until it’s time to put the finishing touches on the side dishes.
If I hurry, there will be no one to overhear the madness about to come out of my mouth.
“I need your help,” I blurt out, my pulse already racing. “With something…kind of crazy.”
Weaver glances up from where he’s just finished sliding the dirty dishes into the already overflowing machine. “Crazy, huh?” His lips hook up on one side as he closes the washer. “Is this going to get me in trouble with Sully?”
“No.” I shake my head, blinking as the room spins a little.
Wow. I have had a lot of chardonnay.
But that’s okay. That’s what had to happen to give me the courage to say the crazy stuff out loud.
“But you have to promise not to tell her that I told you that she told me what she told me,” I babble, words coming fast with a mixture of nerves and fear that we’ll be interrupted before I get to the big ask. “I promised I wouldn’t tell, but I have to tell. I would usually never break a promise, but I’m desperate and afraid I’ll never get another chance at something like this if I don’t ask this favor now.”
His smile fades, his expression growing serious as he nods. “All right. Shoot. I’m happy to help if I can.”
He’s telling the truth.
He loves Sully so much that her friends are his friends now. Weaver cares about Elaina, Sydney, and me, and wants our dreams to come true, I truly believe that.
The knowledge helps keep me from blushing hard enough to catch fire as I explain what Sully told me about the sex club they visited in New York.
And about his friend, who she was pretty sure ran a high-class escort service on the side, although Weaver refused to confirm or deny her hunch the night they were there doing wicked things to each other in a secret room…
“So, if that’s true,” I exhale in a rush as Weaver continues to stand staring at me with his inscrutable gray eyes. “Well, then I would like to…you know.”
His brows lift the slightest bit. “No, I don’t know.”
I swallow around the anxiety knot in my throat. “Well, if it is true, and the people she employs are safe and nice and trustworthy—and not too terribly expensive—then I would…” I take a fortifying gulp of my chardonnay, blurting out as I swallow, “I’d like to hire someone to show me things. Sexual things.”