Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“He is, isn’t he? Make sure you tell him that.” But hearing Todd acknowledge that spreads warmth through my body.
Todd smiles. “You keep an eye on him for me. And drive safe.”
A flush crawls over my skin as I step out of the elevator on the fourteenth floor. I’m equal parts excited to see Garrett and dreading the confrontation—a rarity for me. I thrive on confrontation, especially when it involves challenging him. But this whole plus-one situation has rattled me far more than it should.
Garrett opens the door, and my tongue catches in my mouth for a few beats as I appreciate how utterly beautiful this man is. He must have just stepped out of the shower because his hair is damp and the smell of soap clings to his skin.
Meanwhile, I look like a Sherpa with my garment bag slung over one shoulder and my duffel bag over the other, and a paper bag of Todd’s soup gripped in my fist.
Why am I sweating?
I need to unload all this weight—my belongings and my worries.
“Who’s Mindy?” I blurt by way of greeting.
Garrett blinks, caught off guard. But that’s the best way to get the truth out of a guy who always seems to have handy the answer you want to hear. “A friend?”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“I’m one hundred percent sure.”
I cross the threshold into his condo, struggling beneath bags that aren’t that heavy. “A plus-one-to-a-wedding kind of friend?”
Realization washes over his face. “Did they put Mindy down as a plus-one for me?”
“Apparently.”
He shakes his head. “Aunt Audra figured she should, because I hate weddings, and I usually bring Mindy to make them less painful. They never even asked.”
“She’s just a friend?”
“Yeah.”
“Like, I’m just a friend?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Like that guy you brought to the engagement party is just a friend.”
That I could have had sex with a hundred times by now. “Smooth, but you didn’t answer my question.”
He bites his bottom lip in thought, struggling to hide his amusement. “We had a thing in the past, but now we’re platonic.”
The thought of another woman’s hands on Garrett makes blurry spots appear in my vision. “So you’re not bringing her to the wedding?”
“Why would I do that?” He gingerly slips my bags off my shoulders and carries them to a plush leather couch. “I’d ignore her all night because I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”
My pulse throbs in my throat, hearing his candid admission. “Good answer.”
He cocks his head. “Are you jealous?”
Insanely jealous, also a rarity for me.
“Nice place.” I not-so-smoothly divert the conversation, refocusing my attention on his condo, a stunning loft with black metal, glass, and wood features, and charcoal grays and camel-brown décor. Vaulted tin-clad ceilings loom above, and a floating staircase reaches to the second floor. It’s nowhere near the size of the Waltons’ penthouse, but it’s a mansion by Manhattan standards. Drew could fit his condo in here three times over. “How many bedrooms?”
“Two bedrooms, three baths. You want the tour?”
“Depends.” I check the time on my phone. “I have to be at the Laurier at six for high tea.” Some posh hotel a few blocks away from here. “Do we have time for a tour and a fuck?”
A sly smile stretches across his face. “Have I told you how much I like that mouth of yours?”
“Refreshing, right? Why dance around what we both want.” I rake my eyes over his T-shirt and track pants. His feet are bare. And pretty. “How did I never notice your pretty feet before?”
“You were too busy obsessing about other parts on me. Are you okay? Your face is all red.” He comes closer, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead. And frowns. “You’re hot.”
“I know I am, but please tell me as often as possible. My ego never tires of hearing it.” I’m not feeling okay. The Mindy situation is resolved, and my baggage has been unloaded, and yet with each moment that passes, I’m feeling weaker, my insides churning more.
My phone trills from my back pocket. It’s Scarlet’s ringtone, which is unexpected. She always texts. She never calls. “Give me a sec?” I pull it out and answer, my hackles raised. “What’s up?”
“Please tell me you didn’t eat the sushi that was in the fridge,” she croaks, her voice feeble.
Oh no. “Why?”
She groans.
I slither up against the wall, the cool gray tile refreshing against my cheek.
“Justine?” Garrett’s voice calls out from the other side of the door. “How are you doing in there?”
“Peachy.” Even that one-word answer takes effort.
The first wave of intense nausea hit me minutes after I hung up with Scarlet, who informed me that both she and Shane were ill, and they suspected the sushi. I demanded that Garrett lead me to a private corner to hole up and die in for the night, and he led me to the spare bedroom. I darted in here just in time.