Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“You’d refuse me entry into your house because my football team is better than yours?”
“The Bears aren’t better than the Titans.”
“Whatever you say,” I smirk, and he grins, leaning back and putting his feet up on the low stone table centered between all the seating. “I’m surprised you’re not out with Liam tonight.”
“I can’t keep up with your brother anymore. His social life is exhausting.”
“You’re not also trying to see if you can sleep with every woman in Middle Tennessee before you’re forty?”
He laughs. “No. But why aren’t you out with him?”
My nose scrunches. “Partying isn’t really my thing.”
“What is your thing?”
“Reading, watching bad reality TV, and the occasional drink with a girlfriend.”
“You still read?”
“All the time.” I smile, remembering when he used to tease me about how my nose was always stuck in a book. “What’s your thing?”
“I don’t have time for much besides work.”
“I believe that. Liam sent me that write-up done by Stan Miller in Million-Dollar Home Magazine.”
“Did he?”
“Yes, and I have to tell you—what you guys have accomplished is pretty amazing. You should be proud of yourselves,” I say quietly.
“Thanks.” He shifts like he’s uncomfortable with the praise, then his attention goes to the back door when something starts to ding inside the kitchen.
“That’s the potatoes.” He pushes up to stand, placing his beer on the table.
“Do you want some help?” I tip my head back to look up at him when he starts to walk past me.
“No, stay and drink your wine. I’ll be right back out with the steaks.” I watch him walk into the house, leaving Gemma and me alone. I focus on the fire burning and run my fingers through Gemma’s fur when she moves her head to my lap.
When he returns, he’s carrying a plastic container and a pair of tongs. After he puts the steaks on the grill, he approaches me but doesn’t move to sit down. His eyes go to my glass. “Do you want a refill?”
“Sure.” I pass it to him, and he takes it inside, coming back out less than a minute later with the glass full.
“Do you have any plans for Halloween?” he asks, going to the grill after handing me my wine. I do some quick mental math, realizing that Halloween is Monday, just a few days away. I mean, I should have realized that with all the decorations out everywhere.
“I honestly haven’t thought about it. Back in Chicago, I lived in an apartment building, and there weren’t many kids. Or the kids who did live there normally left and went somewhere else. Does this neighborhood get slammed?”
“Yes, but that’s because the people who lived here before me started the tradition of passing out full-size candy bars, and I don’t want to let the kids down. My siblings all bring my nieces and nephews over, and while we walk the neighborhood, my parents pass out candy. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Do you dress up?”
He turns his head to meet my gaze over his shoulder, sending me a look that says, “What do you think?”
“Never mind.” I laugh.
“You can if you want. The girls normally do.”
“Okay, that might be fun.” I get up and walk to where he is, and he pulls out one of the barstools for me. “Thanks.”
He nods, then studies me. “Tell me about your job. What exactly do you do?”
“I’m an aesthetic nurse practitioner.” He raises a brow, and I smile. “I basically help women look the best version of themselves without having to have surgery.” I shake my head. “I guess that was kind of sexist. I also have clients who are men—or I did before I moved.”
“So, like Botox and shit?”
“Yes, but it’s more than that. There is an art to it. Like when you renovate a house, you don’t just rip the old house down. You take the house that’s already there and make it more appealing to anyone driving by. There are people who do what I do and just…” I pause, looking for the right words. “And I guess they kind of overdo it when they get someone in their chair because they are looking at the money they can make off that client rather than truly looking at that client.
“Like, not every house needs a complete remodel. Maybe it just needs a couple of coats of paint and new windows. I find that most women look more beautiful when they don’t get rid of every single wrinkle or when they have more natural lips than the fuller ones just because they are the trend right now. I want women to look like themselves, not some plumped-up version of who they are. Unless that is what they actually want, because there are some who do feel better with a full face of ’tox and filler, and who am I to tell them they shouldn’t?” I snap my mouth shut, realizing I’ve been rambling. “Sorry.”