Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
He shifted right to left, no longer looking at her. “After our conversation, I might have . . . sent him another one.”
The swizzle stick that was her throat was almost completely sealed up now. “Was it Sam Adams again?”
“No, it was Yuengling. Brewed in Pennsylvania. I’m sure he’s telling everyone I’ve gone soft. I hope you’re happy.”
“I am,” she breathed, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. “That was so sweet of you. Were you even going to tell me you did that?”
“No. And don’t ever expect me to do it again.”
Tallulah beamed up at Burgess. He grunted and brushed a finger against her nose.
His eyes are so beautiful. And is his beard extra full looking today?
Everyone around them had gone very silent.
How long had she been staring at her boss, who she was supposed to be reintroducing to the dating scene? With a nervous laugh, Tallulah removed her cheek from his brawny shoulder. “As I was saying, Burgess has so much to offer—”
“Pardon my frankness, but . . .” Annie started, one eye squinted. “Is there anything going on between you two?”
“No,” Tallulah said, empathically. “For one, he’s my boss. And two, we’re very different.”
Jeanine wagged a finger between Tallulah and Burgess. “So, just to be clear, nothing has ever happened here?”
“Define happened,” Burgess said, appearing to be enjoying himself.
Because of the attention he was getting from the women?
Why did that possibility make her sweat? This had been her idea.
“Has anything happened . . . physically,” Samara supplied.
“That’s a little forward!” Tallulah laughed/winced.
“She gives me back massages,” Burgess said, downright jovial now. “Does that count?”
Tallulah pinched his elbow, frowning when he only grinned at her. “You’re supposed to be making small talk,” she whispered, before zipping her attention back to the trio of women, which had now expanded to . . . everyone at the mixer. Roughly a dozen. “Just a friendly massage. Totally innocent.”
He looked up at the sky, lips pursed. “There was also that time we made out in front of the club. You remember that night, don’t you, Tallulah? It was a measly two weeks ago.”
“I was trying to shake off some unwanted attention from another guy,” Tallulah explained, fire climbing her face. “Burgess was just helping me out.”
“I’d be happy to help you out next time,” laughed Pinstripes.
Burgess’s head turned so slowly, time seemed to be moving backward. Birds flew overhead, children laughed and cried on the playground, cars honked, the earth rotated around the sun, and still he was in the process of turning his head. “What do you mean by that, buddy?” Burgess asked, his tone dripping with malice.
Only, the way he said “buddy” sounded more like “future corpse.”
Pinstripes looked like he was choking on a human arm. “Ah, Jesus, I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know why I say anything. That’s why I’m single, I guess.” He scrubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Sir Savage.”
A muscle popped in his jaw. “Why? You didn’t imply you’d like to make out with me.”
“You’re right.” He looked at Tallulah, hands clasped in prayer. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“Please. It’s fine,” Tallulah laughed, wanting to defuse the situation. “It’s fine.”
“But going back to what we were discussing . . .” Annie and Samara were elbowing each other. “There’s nothing going on between you?”
“You’re just a rich, eligible, attractive man living with his hot au pair, getting back rubs and occasionally making out with her.” This from Annie. “As friends.”
Burgess looked at Tallulah with mock thoughtfulness. “It does sound a little suspicious when you put it all together like that,” Burgess mused happily.
“Okay. Well, this has been nice—” Tallulah started.
“I’m still willing to give him my number,” piped up a woman in back.
“Me too.” Samara wiped an imaginary tear. “It’s slim pickings out here.”
Annie stuck out a business card, followed by three more business cards being stacked on top. “Call me if this”—air quotes—“‘friendship’ doesn’t work out.”
Burgess smiled at Tallulah while the colorful rectangles were piled into his palm.
Tallulah watched them grow in number with a spike in her throat.
“Are we done here?” Burgess asked, voice low.
“Yes,” Tallulah said, weakly.
“Goodbye to everyone except that guy,” Burgess called, hitting Pinstripes with one final glare, before turning Tallulah around and escorting her back the way they’d come. When they reached the path that would lead them to the exit, however, he steered her around the pond and she went, incapable of gathering the wherewithal to separate from the rich, eligible, attractive man who was filling her with a whole lot of confusing emotions. Every one of those phone numbers was like a kebab skewer to the jugular.
“Well.” He nudged her gently in the ribs. “How’d I do?”
“Great,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. “You were just yourself. No pretenses. Which is . . . which is good, because, you know, you want people to like you for you—”