Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Not here.”
“. . . But it’s a public place and it’s a nice day. It can’t be that deserted. How can you be so sure?”
“Because I reserved the place for us, Lena. Remember when I told you I do that sometimes?”
“You . . . what?” She stops walking, her eyes dancing. There’s something incredibly satisfying about the naked shock on her face. “What do you mean by reserved it? The whole park? Jesus.”
“Only for a couple hours. Plenty of time to explore and relax.”
“But why?” She’s flabbergasted.
“Why not? It’s summer, and from what I’ve gathered, you don’t get much time to yourself outside work. I want my girl to stop and smell the flowers. Literally.” I shrug, threading my fingers through hers and kissing her hand. That’s all impulse. I don’t give a single, solitary shit if there’s no one around to see it. “Consider it a reward for putting up with everything in town—and with me.”
“But isn’t it expensive?”
“Tremendously. Luis made the arrangements. They normally just close down the entire preserve for weddings.”
“Holy shit, are you crazy?”
“Shhh, you’re disturbing the birds.” I bite back a laugh at the shock on her face. “Just enjoy it, Lena. I wanted to be here with you, so I splurged for a few hours in paradise. You smell that?” I make a big show of filling my lungs until my chest puffs out. “It’s gorgeous out here.”
“I—”
“Come on, I’ll show you around.” With her hand in mine, I walk her over the narrow path winding toward the bird marsh. “Check out the birds and keep quiet.”
She doesn’t need much encouragement, drinking in the atmosphere in awed silence. Friendly birdsong floats over us, even if we don’t see anything more exciting than a heron and a couple small hummingbirds flitting around.
I haven’t been here for over a year. Never with a woman worth closing the place down. With no one else around, there’s another layer to the majesty, the vibrant wonder surrounding us with every breath.
She’s the whole reason we’re experiencing any of this now.
Without her, I never would’ve done this. Likely wouldn’t even be here.
We wind up a smaller path snaking off the wider one to the rhododendron maze—an absolute riot of blooming pink and white flowers.
“It’s impressive. Like walking through one of those immersive art things, except real,” she says after a long moment.
“Yeah, immersive.” I don’t take my eyes off her for a single second.
I know how bad that sounds.
I know how boned I am, watching her like she’s the prettiest thing here.
I also know I don’t give a damn.
She looks at me as my phone buzzes, though, and I take a quick look.
There’s an email from Luis—no matter what he said earlier, he doesn’t really do time off when he’s on the clock. He’s been working from the car while we’ve been wandering through our own secret conservatory.
The document attached to the email looks enormous.
I can’t resist opening it and quickly scrolling through as we walk, skimming pages and pages of what looks like some very sketchy history regarding Harry Jay’s business dealings.
Fucking checkmate.
“Brady?” Lena stops and looks at me. “What’s so important?”
I blank my expression and swipe away the PDF. “Just thinking we should do a selfie. It’ll be great timing to post it when we’re on our way back, after the snapshots in Bainbridge start making the rounds.”
“A selfie? Oh, you’re serious?”
“It won’t kill you, will it?” I smile, opening my camera app.
There’s no sense in letting Harry goddamned Jay rot my brain and ruin this. Plenty of time for that later. And for charting ways to send him to hell.
“My hair’s a mess. That wind on the ferry did terrible things,” she complains, but when I turn the screen to us, she doesn’t try to hide.
That’s the girl I tell myself I’m not fucking falling for. Bold and determined to push through life.
Just as I’m about to take the photo, my last thread of control snaps.
I lean in.
I kiss her hard, drawing a gasp from her lungs.
One for me, one for the camera—Instagram will love it—and then another for me.
Tongues flowering, all fire, sticky as hell.
I am obsessed.
And I bring her closer, chasing away any question about what was on my phone with my mouth.
Then I forget about her twisted ex, too, because I’m enjoying her that much.
She kisses me back slowly, sensually, her slim arms winding around my neck and her nails digging at my collar.
When I break away, her eyes are amber stars in daylight.
“That was way more than your fans needed,” she whispers.
“Hell yes, it was. No regrets.” I kiss her again before she can pull away. “But they’ll eat it up just the same, I promise. Just don’t tell me I’m the only one to blame.”
Her face heats scarlet. She doesn’t deny it, because she can’t.