Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Her hair is a mess, and her cheeks are flushed. She’s so fucking beautiful that I forget to breathe.
“It’s a small statue that Denia had on the nightstand.” She glances at the floor. “It’s made of stone, I think. It didn’t break.”
I watch as she moves to pick it up, but she stops herself, gathering the front of the robe in her fist.
“Good,” I murmur, still feeling like I’m in a trance.
“It’s late,” she whispers. “I should go back to bed.”
“Yes,” I say in a rougher tone than I intended. “Goodnight, Sin.”
“Goodnight.” Her voice is soft. “I left some shoes over there by the door. Try not to trip over them on your way out.”
I smile as I back out of the room, not wanting to tear my gaze from her by turning around to leave.
As I step into the hallway, I shut the door with a soft click. I finally draw a rush of air into my lungs as I rest my forehead against the door.
I’ll never be able to erase the image of what I just saw from my memory. I’m damn grateful for that because I never want to forget tonight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Sinclair
“You look odd in that suit.”
A bark of laughter escapes Jameson as he glances over his shoulder to find me standing behind him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence on my wardrobe choice for the day.”
I hold in a smile. “What I meant to say is that it’s odd to see you in suits. I remember you best in jeans and T-shirts.”
He turns to face me, giving me the full view of him in a dark gray suit.
I misspoke.
He doesn’t look odd. He looks ghost pepper hot.
His hands jump to adjust the knot on his tie. “I remember you best in jeans and T-shirts too. It’s good to see you haven’t veered too far out of that lane.”
I tug on the bottom of the red T-shirt I’m wearing. “Comfort trumps fashion when I’m working from home.” I give my head a shake. “Or from my temporary home.”
He nods. “Right. Temporary home. Before long, we’ll be listing this place for sale.”
A part of me will mourn during that process because we will be letting go of an important part of Denia’s life.
“Speaking of that, we need to talk.” Jameson tosses his head back to look up at the ceiling. “We have a hell of a lot of rooms to clear out. We need to schedule some serious time to devote to that.”
I know he’s right, so I nod. “Do you have free time over the next few days, or do you have plans?”
He hesitates. “Plans?”
I narrow my eyes. “You know what plans are, right? It’s when you agree to meet someone or decide to go somewhere. It’s not a new concept, Jameson.”
“Sure.” He smirks. “No concrete plans. What about you?”
I rub my chin. “I’m busy on Saturday night. The rest of the time, I’m free.”
His top teeth edge over his bottom lip. “I can work with that.”
“Good.” A sense of relief flows through me. “There are a bunch of boxes in the closet of the room I’m staying in, so we can start there tonight.”
“All right.”
“All right,” I repeat his words back. “Are you leaving for work soon?”
He chuckles. “Why? Are you eager to get rid of me?”
I tug on the end of my ponytail as I rake him from head to toe again. I’ve had a question perched on the tip of my tongue all night. I need to ask it, or it will steal my focus all day.
“Did you see anything when you came into my room last night?” I step closer to where he’s standing in the main living area. “I know it was dark, but…”
I’m interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing.
I can’t blame that on Jameson since it’s my phone sounding off in my back pocket. I yank it out and glance at the screen. “It’s Keats.”
“Take the call,” Jameson says as he heads for the door of the penthouse. “Lock up after I leave.”
“I will,” I call after him.
By the time he’s out of the door, I’ve got my phone to my ear. “Hey, Keats.”
“Hey, stranger,” he teases. “In case you’re wondering, I’m still alive.”
Laughing, I start walking toward my bedroom. “I’m sorry I’ve been busy.”
“I heard.” The tone of his voice evens. “You moved in with Jameson.”
“Not willingly,” I say. “It’s complicated.”
“Meet me for lunch so you can explain it to me,” he pauses. “You name the place. I’ll cover the meal.”
“Noon at Crispy Biscuit.”
“I should have known you’d pick your favorite diner.” He chuckles. “I’ll be there. Bring your roomie if you want.”
Holding in a laugh, I sigh. “Hard pass. I’ll see you at noon, Keats.”
“I can’t wait,” he says. “I’ve missed you, kid.”
Lunch with my brother was just what I needed. Keats isn’t the nosy type, but he did have a handful of questions about my current living arrangement. I know that he got most of the details from Berk, so all I added was that I’m looking forward to the day I move back to my apartment.