Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
This.
The answer comes on the heels of a painfully hard heartbeat, and another, and still another.
This. This.
This, sharing secrets and a pitcher of beer on a breezy Friday afternoon with a beautiful girl. Her stomach is full and so are her eyes when she looks at me. No judgment. No bullshit. Just hurt and, weirdly enough, happiness. Like I’ve made her happy just by sitting here and listening and giving her my crackers when hers ran out.
My chest twists. This is scary.
This is awesome.
This is what I want. If only Nora hadn’t just laid out several damn good reasons why she’d never get involved with someone she works with again.
Chapter Nineteen
Nora
“Please don’t say anything,” I tell Theo on our way out of the restaurant. “I get that everyone already knows, but the details—”
“Aren’t mine to share.” He holds open the door and I walk back out into the ocean breeze. “I won’t say a word.”
Funny enough, I don’t think he will. I could be an idiot to trust him—wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been vulnerable with a man and gotten burned—but Theo’s different. He noticed I needed a break and took me to lunch. He let me guide the conversation. He listened, and instead of making me feel like an idiot for falling in love at the ripe old age of thirty-two with a guy who clearly just wanted some ass, Theo was sympathetic to my side of the story.
Yes, he still called my top client a scumbag.
Yes, he called me his colleague after the hottest hookup of my life in a moment of panic.
Yes, he’s a wonderful person out here in California, but chances are he’ll revert back to his asshole self the second we step foot in Charlotte (whenever that will be).
And yet I find myself continually wanting to trust him. The more I get to know Theo—or should I say Teddy—the more I like him.
I really have to stop liking him. His gaze rips down my body as he follows me outside, and I don’t miss the way the expression in his eyes tightens, like he’s in pain. I shiver and he yanks down his sunglasses, and I suddenly don’t know what to do with my hands. Do I grab his hand? Dig my fingers in his hair and pull him in for one of those face-melting kisses? Or do I give him a high five in a painfully obvious show of platonic friendship?
Watching him run his own hand through his hair, bicep bulging, the hem of his shirt lifting to allow a tantalizing glimpse of flat stomach and a red-brown happy trail, my entire body pulses with want.
I should’ve gotten in that car earlier and taken my chances at LAX. I’m not sure I can trust myself around this version of Theo Morgan.
He’s beside me now, checking his phone. “Wanna walk around the Funk Zone?”
I squint up at the sky. “Shouldn’t we get back to the hotel so we can work?”
“It’s five o’clock.” He holds up his phone. “On the East Coast, anyway. The weekend has officially begun.”
I do the math. We left the hotel at eleven our time, and now it’s two. Did we really just sit at that bar and talk for almost three hours? And did Theo really not take a call or curse out a broker once? That means he actually took the afternoon off. For me. Something Aiden never, ever did.
Makes me feel all mushy inside.
I do not do mushy. Except, apparently, with this guy.
“A couple wineries have tasting rooms downtown,” Theo is saying, “and there are a few cool shops to browse too.”
“I know the Funk Zone,” I say, bewildered not by his kindness, but by how much I really do want to explore that part of town with him right now.
I’d rather do that than anything else.
I can’t fall for Theo. Even if he did want what I did—and I know now to never make that assumption about someone again—I’m done playing roulette with my career. I’m done clawing back the respect I lost at work by getting involved with my boss. Now, more than ever, I need to keep it in my pants and establish clear boundaries with Theo.
Nothing wrong with being friends though. The idea sneaks up on me, and I latch onto it like a drowning woman clinging to a life vest. Theo and I just did what friends do, didn’t we? We talked. We ate. We talked some more. Nothing weird happened. It was nice. And I think I deserve something nice—like walking around one of my favorite places on earth with a friend—after the week, the year, I’ve had.
“So?” Theo slows his steps. “If you’re tired—”
“Let’s do it.”
He smiles, wide and white, and this giddy little bubble in my center begins to expand, making me smile too.