Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“I don’t,” I admitted. “I’m at the very beginning of this process.”
“We’ll make it all work.” She smiled again. “I love this for you. I really do.”
Back in my office, I closed the door, leaned against it, and allowed myself a little fist pump of triumph. Obviously there was a long road ahead, but I felt like I was on my way. I still had work to do here, though, starting with a wedding rehearsal this evening.
I decided to make myself a quick cup of tea in the kitchen before going over all the details one last time, and while I was waiting for the water to heat up, I got an idea that made me smile all over again.
CHAPTER 17
ZACH
“Hey, Zach. Delivery for you.”
I looked up from the conference table and saw Gwyn, the front desk receptionist, enter the room carrying a white plastic grocery bag.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“I don’t know. It just arrived.” She set it in front of me. “Jackson said to tell you he’ll be here in a minute. He’s finishing up a call.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I studied the bag for a second, then untied the handles. As soon as I peeked inside, I smiled. Then I pulled out a box of ginger tea, a plastic bear filled with honey, and a box of something called Assorted Aromatherapy Shower Bombs.
Shower bombs? What the fuck?
“Hey, Gramps.” Jackson strolled into the room, laptop under his arm, and dropped into the chair across from me. “Gwyn said you got a delivery.”
“Nothing.” Quickly, I shoved the items back in the bag.
“Come on, let me see.” He snatched the bag from my hands and looked into it. “Awww. A care package! Who’s it from?”
I set my jaw and folded my arms over my chest.
“What do we have here? Tea.” He placed the box of tea on the table. “And honey—isn’t that sweet?” He held up the bear and made it dance a little, then set it next to the tea. “And . . .” He pulled out the red box. “Aromatherapy shower bombs? What the hell are those?”
“I have no idea.”
He flipped the box over and read in an overdramatic voice. “The ultimate in self-care. Shower fizzies with essential oils in six stress-melting, pleasure-inducing scents: peppermint, vanilla rose, eucalyptus, lavender, coconut, and jasmine honeysuckle.” He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “Pleasure-inducing? Who sent you this box of pleasure?”
“None of your business,” I snapped.
“Let me guess. Your secret girlfriend.”
I rolled my eyes. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a friend.”
“I don’t have any friends that send me fizzing pleasure scented like coconut.”
I stood up and grabbed the bag from him, stuffing everything back inside it. “She knows I’m sick. She’s being nice.”
“How does she know you’re sick?”
Sitting down again, I set the bag at my feet. “Because we’ve talked on the phone a couple times this week. And before you come at me, it’s nothing inappropriate. We’re just friends.”
Jackson held up his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
“But I know what you’re thinking, and you can just stop thinking it.”
A few other Cole Security employees entered the room, putting an end to the discussion, which I was glad about. What I’d told Jackson was true—Millie and I were just friends, and our conversations the past two nights had been totally appropriate.
My thoughts about her after we hung up were a different matter entirely. In fact, given how hard I was finding it to put her out of my head, I knew talking with her every night was probably a terrible idea.
And yet I called her as soon as I got home, even though it was after one a.m. her time.
“Hello?” She sounded sleepy.
“Hey,” I said, dropping onto my couch. “I’m sorry for calling so late. I just got home from a job. Did I wake you?”
“It’s okay. How are you feeling?”
“Better today. I think it was the tea and honey someone sent me.”
She laughed, a lazy, sexy sound that sent a bolt of heat through me. “Wonder who that could be.”
“I don’t know. They also sent me a box of shower bombs, which sound terrifying.”
“Did you try one yet?”
“No. But I drank some tea.”
“Next time you take a shower, use one of those bombs. They smell really good. And the steam will be good for the congestion.”
“You use those bomb things?”
“Yes. My favorite is the jasmine honeysuckle.”
“Does it smell like you?”
She was silent a few seconds. “It might.”
Now I was picturing her in the shower. Great. I cleared my throat and steered back to a safer topic—gratitude. “Thank you. Really. That was sweet.”
“You’re welcome. I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“But when you’re sick, it’s nice to be taken care of, isn’t it?”
“By you, it would be.”
Then she went silent.
I exhaled. “I’m sorry, Millie. I keep saying shit I know I shouldn’t.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m doing the same. Being just friends is hard after you’ve . . . been more.”