Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
So…without further encouragement, I spilled the tea and told this lovely stranger about my sister’s upcoming wedding and her desire to impress the groom-to-be’s wealthy family.
“Sterling seems like a genuinely nice person. I don’t think he cares that Tabby didn’t spend her childhood summers in exotic locations or that she barely squeaked by at San Luis Obispo. I don’t understand the logic of wanting to be accepted as someone you aren’t. In my opinion, that’s the root of my sister’s malevolence toward me.”
Noah whistled. “Malevolence. Ouch. Does that mean she’s like Maleficent? Evil and mean?”
“Well, no. She’s not mean…usually. She’s just easily caught up in appearances.”
“Common trait these days. It’s human nature to want to fit in, honey.”
His off-the-cuff term of endearment caught me by surprise…which made no sense at all. Everyone in this corner of Los Angeles called friends and strangers alike “honey.” It wasn’t much different than Ezra and Cole calling me “dude.”
In other words, it wasn’t special. But it felt special. It was as though his intonation gave the word a light yet personal emphasis. My insides melted, and my heart skipped a beat. However, I wasn’t a complete idiot. I wouldn’t give in to a sudden fit of lust with an enchanting creature whose job was to feign interest in my ho-hum life.
I licked my lips, aware of his laser gaze fixed on my mouth as I shook off my silly reverie. Okay, well…he was probably looking at me in a general way and not at a specific body part, but a boy could dream.
“Perhaps you’re right, but my sister’s issue with me is that I don’t try to fit in,” I stated, sitting a little taller in the chair. “I don’t know how, and that’s not a problem for me. In my line of work, people are more interested in what I know than how I look. My boss likes to insinuate that I’m not his brightest protégé, but I know I’m smart and I know who my friends are. None of them care about fancy cars and designer clothes.”
Noah plucked a buzzer from the shelf and changed the blade. He set one hand on my shoulder and traced a featherlight line along my jaw in a wordless command to lower my chin.
“You’re lucky.”
Perhaps it was my imagination, but I could have sworn I heard a wistful note in his voice.
I bent my head and stared at the bits of hair flying like dust motes, letting the buzzer fill the silence. I should have craved the quiet by now, but every second it stretched on felt like missed opportunity. And I didn’t want to walk away without learning something about him.
I cocked my head curiously. “Do you feel as though you have to fit in?”
Noah barked a laugh and set the buzzer on the nearby shelf. “Oh sugar, look at me. Of course I do.”
I took the invitation and gave him a thorough once-over, skimming his toned pecs and lingering on the hint of a tattoo peeking from the sleeve of his fitted tee before studying his full lips and perfect nose. I was pretty sure I’d never met anyone with such a symmetrical face. Or such piercing eyes, staring at me with undisguised humor and—
Oops.
“Well, it makes sense that a hair stylist has…styled hair,” I replied lamely, my cheeks blazing as though I’d just opened an oven door. “Your profession must require a certain amount of compliance.”
“Sure, I’m expected to look and dress a certain way, and I deliver.” He shrugged good-naturedly as he pointed at his snug tee. “But…I do it in my own fashion.”
“I like your shirt. It’s—” I squinted at the merman on his chest. “Does he have a—?”
“A manly bulge? Yep.” Noah plucked the fabric from his body and glanced at the shimmery mystical creature made of beads and fine thread. “I designed this one myself. I might have gone overboard on his package, but I couldn’t resist. It’s not too much, is it?”
His devilish grin dazzled me. I studied his shirt to avoid eye contact, which was a tactical error on my part because his merman was indeed very well-endowed. My first thought was… Wow, that’s an impressive bulge. My second was more scientific in nature.
“It’s a nice design.” I adjusted my glasses to hold them in place. “But it’s not anatomically correct.”
Noah squealed as he rolled a stool over and perched in front of me. “Sweet baby Jesus! I have to sit for this. I’ve never had a client who’s known anything about merman anatomy before. Tell me everything.”
“Uh…no.” I opened my mouth and shut it. Twice. “I don’t know anything about merman anatomy.”
“But you used the phrase ‘anatomically correct.’ That must mean something,” he cajoled.
“It means I have a degree in biomolecular engineering and have taken numerous biology, physiology, and anatomy courses over the years. However, I assure you that none of my classes covered merman”—I gestured toward his chest—“genitalia.”