Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 81843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“It was in the sixties,” she says, opening a small container of peppers she prefers on the side. “He was so handsome. The studliest of the studs. He had that rugged hero thing going on. Do you know what I mean? Sharp jaw. Cheekbones to die for. The smile that melts your panties right off ya.”
I burst out laughing. This story changes slightly every time she tells it, but I’m not about to stop her.
“I can’t remember his name.” She thinks about it for a minute. “Anyway, you could look at him and just know he could handle anything that came his way. It was so damn sexy. If I hadn’t been engaged to your grandfather, I would’ve rocked that man’s world.”
“There’s no doubt.”
She grins. “Show me a picture of Mr. Brewer again.”
“Mimi …”
“Use your phone and get me a picture. I wanna see him. I don’t get to see hotties anymore, and I want to remember what it feels like to be alive.”
I groan—not at the words, but at her tone. “Let’s not.”
She takes a bite, watching me while she chews.
Mimi is entirely too enthralled with my work life … and my hot boss. But it’s all my fault. The day I ran into Jason after several years, I sprinted home to tell Mimi all about it. It all came pouring out of me—how Mom had worked for them for many years until she took a job as a nurse’s aide to help take care of Mimi. I told her about the Brewer family and how Jason had always fascinated me.
And how he was even more fascinating now.
“Guess I’ll find a picture myself,” she says, reaching for her water bottle.
The last time I tried to tell her I wouldn’t look Jason up online, she got my phone while I was in the shower and tried to do it herself. That only cost me three hours of my life and a factory reset.
I huff and get up to retrieve my phone from the hallway. When I return to the couch, I pull up Jason’s photo from the company website and hand it to her.
She takes one look at him and drops the phone in her lap. “I think he gets cuter every time I see him.”
“Yeah,” I say as nonchalantly as I can manage.
“How on earth do you get a thing done in the office aside from staring at this man all day? I’d be jumping his bones in the conference room.”
I hold out my hands and shrug. “I have good self-restraint.”
She peers at his picture again. “I don’t know why you don’t make some moves on him. You’re beautiful and smart. There’s no way he doesn’t have a thing for you.”
“Mimi, stop.”
She hands me the phone with a warning written on her face. “Why?”
I sneak a final peek at Jason before turning off the screen.
Mimi is just like my mother was—a firm believer in love. I’ve never been able to wrap my head around that fully. I’ve never had the guts to ask about it, either.
My granddad, despite his faults, was a decent man. I have a few nice memories of him as a child. But his vice was a screwdriver cocktail, and his outlet was my grandmother. I’ve heard enough stories to wonder why she stayed with him until he passed away the same summer my parents divorced.
On the other hand, Mom didn’t stay with Dad—but it wasn’t by choice. Dad left us without so much as a reliable car. Despite her heartbreak, she never gave up on the idea of a happy ending. She passed away from colon cancer two days after my eighteenth birthday with me and Mimi by her side.
But I can’t tell my grandmother that even if Jason was interested in me—something I’m not conceited enough to believe—I no longer believe in fairy tales or magical endings.
“Jason is too busy to date,” I say, grabbing her remote. “He’s the CEO of one of the largest boutique airlines in the country, remember?” I point at the ceiling as a thump rattles the room. “That was the headboard against the wall, wasn’t it?”
She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Turn it up.”
I whisper a silent thanks to the universe, turn up the volume on the TV, and settle in for some good soap opera drama.
Chapter 5
Jason
My stomach growls, breaking my concentration—something I’ve battled to retain all afternoon and evening. Focus isn’t something I struggle with. If there’s work to be done, I can tune out a marching band. Hell, I can even ignore Tate if it means completing a task.
But the one thing I can’t keep from infiltrating my thoughts is Chloe.
Friday at seven. See you then.
I straighten my desk, make notes for later—leaving off a reminder to have Chloe work late on Friday—and then rise to my feet. My stomach reminds me that I haven’t eaten since morning's breakfast bar, so I make my way to the kitchen.