Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“Oh, yeah, I will.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a business card, sliding it over to me. “My cell is on there. You can call or text whenever you’d like.”
“Tonight,” I reply. “You’ll have dinner with me tonight.”
She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Luckily for you, I happen to be free this evening. You can pick me up at seven.”
She pulls the business card back, writes her address on it, and then stands when I do.
“We appreciate your help on this matter, Mr. Sterling.”
“Gray,” I reply immediately and walk around the desk to join her. “I’m Gray.”
Her eyes flick down to my lips and then up again.
“Do you have tattoos under your suit jacket?” she asks.
“Maybe.”
She steps back and eye-fucks me, her gaze eating me alive as she loops her purse over her shoulder.
“I bet you do,” she says before heading for the door. With her hand on the knob, she turns back to me with a smile. “I like a man with tattoos.”
She winks, and then she’s gone, leaving the door open so I get a view of her fine ass encased in a tight pencil skirt as she heads down the hall and through the door to the waiting area.
I immediately walk two doors down to Brandon’s office, knock on the door, and walk inside.
“Stella just left,” I inform him as he glances up from his laptop.
“How did it go?”
“You know it’ll be easy. She told me the story and signed the papers. As soon as Danny signs, we’ll file. Your wedding won’t be affected by this.”
“Good.” He sighs and sits back in his chair, pushing his hands through his hair. “What a pain in the ass.”
“You didn’t warn me about Stella.”
Brandon raises an eyebrow. “About her sass? Yeah, the woman is outspoken, but she’s a good friend, and Danny adores her.”
“No, about how fucking beautiful she is.”
Brandon’s eyes narrow. “Oh, that.”
“Yeah, that.”
“I guess it didn’t occur to me.”
“Right. Anyway, I’m taking care of the situation.”
“And of her?” he counters.
“I’m going to see her later tonight.”
“You work fast.”
I just shake my head and cross to the door. “Not usually, no. But I want to see more of her.”
“Keep me posted,” is all he says as I walk out of his office and return to mine.
I have plenty to do and no time to think about a stunning blonde.
But something tells me that’s exactly how I’ll spend the rest of my day.
Carrying the grocery bags, I bypass the door to my condo and knock on the next one.
“Come in,” Betty calls, expecting me.
“They didn’t have self-rising flour,” I inform her as I walk inside and set the bags on the kitchen island. “I don’t know if there’s some kind of baking shortage happening, but there wasn’t a bag to be found.”
“That’s okay,” the older woman says with a wave. “I can make it work. What do I owe you for these? And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t say ‘nothing.’”
I smile down at her. She’s like a mother to me, having lived next door since the day I moved in six years ago. Betty’s funny and always dressed in a sweatsuit. Today’s is lime-green. Her gray hair is short and curly, and she needs glasses but refuses to wear them.
She swears she’s correcting her vision.
“Twenty bucks,” I reply. The groceries were actually closer to fifty, but I hate taking her money. She knows I undercharge her, but this is the system that works for us.
“I’ll give you twenty-five,” she says and slips the cash into my coat pocket as I set a jar of Nutella in her cabinet.
“Hey, Grams,” Willie, her sixteen-year-old grandson says as he cheerfully walks through the front door. “Oh, hey, Gray. Is it grocery day?”
“No, I just needed a couple of things, and Gray was going to the store anyway.”
“Cool, you got my favorite Pop-tarts,” Willie says with a smile. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Don’t eat them all at once, okay?”
“I mean, I could eat them for dinner.”
“I’m making ravioli and meatballs,” Betty informs him. “Not Pop-tarts. You should stay for dinner, Gray.”
“As much as I love your ravioli, I have to pass tonight. I have a date.”
The room goes quiet as I stow some cheese in the fridge. When I turn around, both Willie and Betty are staring at me.
“What?”
“You have a date?” Willie asks.
“I do go on dates, you know. I just don’t always tell you about them.”
“Well, bring her for dinner,” Betty gushes. “We want to meet her. I have plenty to make enough for one more, and I have a brand-new blue sweatsuit that brings out the color of my eyes.”
“Thank you, but no. It’s a first date. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Is she pretty?” Betty asks.
“Yeah. Yeah, she’s pretty.”
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my damn life.