Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“No,” I answer quickly. “I pieced it together on my own based on a few things he said. Sean has no idea you’re here.”
An audible sigh escapes her as she skims her hands over the front of her dress.
My gaze follows, sticking on the neckline and the curve of her full breasts beneath the silk.
Fuck. I need to stop looking at her.
I take another step back. “I’m going to make a pot of coffee and something for breakfast, Ava. My sister keeps some things in one of the bedrooms on the top floor. If you head up there, you’ll find a shower and a closet full of clothes. I think you’re around the same size as her.”
“Okay.” She nods. “Thank you, Harry.”
I move quickly toward the doorway because I need some goddamn caffeine and a reprieve from the suffocating air in this room.
“I’ll wash your sister’s clothes and get them back to you.”
I glance up to see Ava standing at the entrance to my kitchen dressed in a pair of dark jeans, a red sweater, and the red heels she had on last night. Her wet hair is slicked back into a ponytail held in place with what looks like one of the hair ties Jos keeps in the bathroom attached to the guestroom she frequently uses.
“No rush,” I murmur. “How do you take your coffee? Do you even drink coffee?”
She lets out this squeak of a laugh that bounces off the walls. A smile settles over her lips. It’s as bright as light in a deep, dark tunnel.
“By the bucket.” She takes a step closer to my kitchen island. “I’ll take a splash of dairy if you have it. Cream or milk.”
“You’re not an oat or almond milk kind of girl?”
Girl?
She’s far from a girl. She’s a beautiful woman with incredible lush curves and full lips.
“If that’s all you have, I’m game.” She tentatively sits on one of the metal stools next to the island. “It can’t hurt to venture out of your comfort zone, right?”
Those words rattle inside my brain because my comfort zone has defined borders, and one of them is don’t fuck around with your best friend’s sister.
I pour her a mug of coffee before grabbing a container of cream from the fridge. I splash in what I’d consider a decent amount based on my years of experience drinking coffee exactly the way she likes.
I slide the mug toward her. “Here you go.”
Her gaze trails over my face.
Once I knew she was on the top floor of my home, I circled back to my bedroom and showered. Then I picked out a white shirt and dark blue three-piece suit for the day, opting to go without a tie because I already feel as though my throat is being constricted to the point that I can’t breathe.
“Thank you.” The words are soft and filled with gratitude. “This will help since I had too much to drink last night.”
I didn’t have enough.
I glance toward the six-burner gas stove. “I’m making an omelet. Are you allergic to anything?”
“I’m not.” Her gaze travels past me. “You’re cooking me breakfast?”
“Sean would do the same for my sister.” The words leave me without thinking them through, but they’re based on truth.
If Jos needed a shower and a good meal, Sean would be first in line to supply it, so if I can send his sister on her way with a clean slate and a hearty breakfast, I’ll do it.
She sighs. “Of course, he would.”
I nod. “We’ll talk while we eat.”
She takes another sip from the coffee mug. “Okay, Harry.”
I turn my back to her and get to work finishing our meal.
Another hour or two and she’ll be on her way out of my life, and I can forget about her again just as I’ve done since the last time I saw her years ago.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ava
I can’t take my eyes off Harrison’s back.
I’ve seen men wearing a shirt and vest before, but damn, none of them looked quite like this.
From this vantage point, I'm getting a clear view of how insanely hot his body is. Broad shoulders lead down to a lean waist and long legs. My eyes move up to his ass. This man has everything going for him, including excellent taste in clothing.
His pants and vest have to be tailored to fit.
I glance to where his suit jacket is hanging over the back of a chair next to the dining room table. He must look incredible whenever he strolls into a meeting or when he walks down a street in Manhattan.
He’s the type of man that deserves a second or even third glance.
Suddenly, he turns to face me, and I swear my cheeks blush pink in embarrassment.
He doesn’t have eyes in the back of his head, so there’s no way he knows I was checking him out.