Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
An hour ago, she accidentally blurted out the amount she’s making on this side gig. It made me seriously question why I dropped out of my elective art class during my sophomore year of college.
She tucks the handle of one of her freshly washed paintbrushes into the front pocket of her denim overalls. She has at least a half dozen in there with all the bristles exposed so they can dry. Each is a different size and serves a unique purpose. She explained it all to me when I offered to help.
So far, I’ve been gifted with the task of filling in the petals of a yellow flower in the bottom right portion of the mural.
“I’ll order us lunch in an hour or so,” I offer. What are you in the mood for?”
Her blue eyes shine as she steals a glance in my direction. “Why don’t I handle that? I’d love to surprise you with something special.”
I’m not the most adventurous person when it comes to food, but I’ll give almost anything a go at least once.
“That sounds good to me.”
“When you’re done with the yellow paint, I’ll upgrade you to blue.” She winks. “A cute little bluebird in the corner could use your magic touch.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I have a steady hand, not a magic touch.”
She tugs one of her paintbrushes out of her pocket. “I happen to think you have both.”
“You’re Carrie, aren’t you?” Elio Franzini looks down at me.
Holy smokes…he’s tall and handsome in a bad boy, messy hair and tattooed way.
He’s not my type, but I understand the appeal.
Usually, when I see him at his restaurant, he’s wearing a chef’s coat and is embroiled in a discussion with one of his staff.
Right now, his focus is solely on me.
Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I smile. “That’s me. I live a couple of blocks from your restaurant.”
“I know,” he says.
His smile could disarm a bank robber. It’s that captivating.
“Carrie said she loved the dessert pizza,” Posey tells him. “You brought one for her, didn’t you?”
He nods. “That one and another new one. Consider it a first taste.”
A knock at the door sends Posey in that direction. Since I’m expecting a floral delivery for her, it’s perfect that she’ll be handed the bouquet of wildflowers.
I wanted to thank her, in my own way, for painting the mural for my sister.
When she swings the door open, it’s not a stranger holding a bouquet of wildflowers.
It’s Rook Thorsen.
He’s dressed down in jeans and a black V-neck sweater. I tear my gaze from him to focus on what’s in his hand.
It’s at least three dozen lavender roses. The stems are bound together with a beautiful deep purple ribbon.
As Posey moves aside, Rook takes one step forward and smiles at me.
That’s a smile that can turn my world upside down. I feel that now as my heart skips a full beat.
“Hey, Carrie,” he says, his voice husky. “These are for you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Rook
I thought the flowers would impress Carrie. Little did I know that a tattooed beast of a chef would be lurking right behind her.
The guy’s biceps are a work of art.
I work out like a champ as often as I can, but I’ve got nothing on Elio Franzini.
Thank fuck Carrie seems more entranced with the roses in my hand than anything going on with Elio.
She steps toward me. “Those are for me?”
Before I can answer, someone is clearing his throat behind me.
I turn toward the still open door to see a young guy with a toothpick clenched between his teeth, a New York Mets cap on his head, and a bouquet of flowers in his hand, too.
What the hell is going on?
From where I’m standing, it looks like this kid had the same brilliant idea I did today.
Little does he know that lavender roses are Carrie’s favorite, so I’ve clearly won this round.
I could do without all the extra competition, though. I assumed Carrie and Posey would be the only people here, but it looks like I was dead wrong.
“Oh, hi,” Carrie calls to the guy in the doorway. “I ordered those. Thanks for delivering them.”
He nods. “No problem, darling.”
Posey lets out a giggle. “Cute.”
“Thanks, darling,” he tosses that same endearment at her.
It seems this guy’s repertoire consists of one note.
Carrie takes the bouquet from the kid before she places something in his hand that she plucked out of the back pocket of her jeans.
Naturally, he’s the type to unveil the tip in front of everyone. He turns the twenty dollar bill over once and then again before he holds it up as if he’s checking if it’s counterfeit.
“You can go,” I tell him, pointing toward the door.
“I’m in no hurry, man.” He looks at the roses that I’m still holding. “Bigger isn’t always better, dude.”
“Ah, yes, it is,” Elio chimes in, crossing his arms over his chest.