Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
“Are you sure? I’m buying.”
“Firm no, Boyd. I have underwear, thank you. The shopping trip is weird enough.”
“Why is it weird?” He looks genuinely puzzled.
“I don’t know, it feels weird that you’re buying me things.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, picking up a heel he can’t possibly expect me to wear. “I have plenty of money. I didn’t even earn it. Hell, my parents didn’t even earn it.”
I stop with a shoe in my hand and stare at him wide-eyed. “Did you steal it?”
“What? No.” He laughs, looking genuinely amused. “I… are you serious?”
Um, am I? “Well, no, you probably wouldn’t have passed the FBI background check if you came from a family of gypsies.” Oh, wait, I remember now. Sophie came into some kind of an inheritance when Boyd found her last year. She’s his half-sister, a child his father had from an affair that no one knew about. She didn’t even know the deceased senator was her dad or that she had a sibling until Boyd found her. “You have an inheritance?”
He nods.
“So why do you work?”
“Why wouldn’t I work?” He looks genuinely confused. “My grandpa would have kicked my ass if I hadn’t taken school seriously and selected my own career path. Besides, I like what I do.”
“What was the family career path? Your dad was a politician, so I assume he wasn’t in the family business.”
“Candy.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope.” He shakes his head, laughing. “I thought you knew.”
“Sophie never mentioned it.” I slide on one pair of the heels the saleswoman—Catie this time—has brought out and stand, walking a few steps in the shoe department to get a feel for them.
“Try these,” Boyd instructs, handing me the higher pair. I take a seat and switch them out then stand again. These aren’t heels, they’re stilettos. “We’ll take those,” Boyd says, handing his card to Catie while I’m still practice-walking in them.
“Boyd, I don’t know,” I murmur. But I’m not sure they’re me. “These are”—I drop my voice—“fuck-me heels.”
“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” he says, dragging his eyes up to my face. “You’re practicing, remember?”
“They look okay?” I’m sort of in love with them already. Not that I’ll have anywhere to wear them besides this wedding. I don’t think they go with my leggings, that’s for sure. The dress is fairly modest though, the heels will sex it up a little but not too much.
“They look fantastic,” Boyd answers. “Are they comfortable?”
“They are. But do you think they’re safe? What if I trip in them?”
“I’ll catch you,” he quips.
It’s not like I’m going to jog in them, I think with a shrug. I take them off and Boyd hands them over to the saleswoman to box up while I put my sneakers back on. “Thanks for the shoes, sugar,” I say and add a dramatic wink.
Ten
Boyd
I’m not sure I’ve ever gone to this much effort to spend time with a girl before, but as we exit the store I’m not ready for the day to be over. We walk back in the direction of the car, Chloe swinging the bag with her shoes and me carrying the dress bag slung over my shoulder. She doesn’t see this as a date so she’s relaxed and I want to hold onto that a little bit longer. We walk in comfortable silence down 17th and when we should cut down 6th to grab the car on 18th I keep walking.
“Isn’t the car down that way?” Chloe asks, starting to recognize that we’re back at the same intersection we walked past earlier on the way to Dough.
“I need to grab something from American Apparel,” I tell her, remembering we passed one on earlier today on the way to Dough.
“Sure.” She shrugs. “No problem.” I like her like this, when she’s not on guard. Although she’s pretty damn funny when she’s nervous too.
I drag her into American Apparel and grab some crewneck t-shirts I don’t really need while Chloe pauses in front of a display of raglan tees. So I get a couple of those too.
“So what made you go into law enforcement instead of the candy business?” she asks when we’re back outside.
“Women,” I tell her and lead her down 19th towards Broadway, for no other reason than it’s the opposite direction from the car. She gives me a signature Chloe dirty look and I laugh. “I’m kidding. I was never going into the candy business. I’m on the board because my grandfather asked me to be on it, but business has never been my interest. I’ve been into technology since I was a kid. It started with hacking game apps, making workarounds to beat the game. That sort of stuff. Let’s just say it progressed from there. Then the FBI recruited me shortly after college.”
“You must be pretty talented,” she says innocently.