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)
His penthouse is pretty high up. That’s why he had Charlie staying with his parents in that massive Lake Washington estate with the lushest dream backyard.
I can’t help making sure he has no second thoughts about what he’s getting into.
“He’ll be sleeping on the balcony where he belongs,” Brady jokes. I think. “And no, I’ll take her. Takes a little while to get to the park up the street, but I can always use another excuse for some fresh air.”
I laugh at the absurdity, like he doesn’t go out all the time, though my stomach clenches a little.
“What’s that look?” Brady grabs my hand and brings it to his lips.
“You. I just don’t want you putting yourself out with all the other craziness going on . . .”
“The ruse, you mean,” he whispers.
“. . . Yeah.”
“It’s not like taking in an old Lab will blow up anything. We’ll find Queenie a real home soon. She’s a sweet girl.”
The Lab happily confirms it about twenty minutes later, after I’ve cleaned up and clocked out, by putting her head above the back seats and grinning at us, tongue flopping on the way home.
“She’s one lucky pup, with the richest foster dad in Seattle,” I say with a sigh.
He smiles at me, the corners of his eyes creasing and those blue eyes flashing like lightning.
No mortal should be actually perfect.
I keep waiting for a land mine, thinking I’ll trip on some fatal flaw that will blow my silly crush to pieces.
But so far, there’s nothing.
The vortex of Brady Pruitt just keeps spinning, pulling me deeper, and soon the only one to blame for the impending heartbreak will be me.
I can’t fall in love.
The thought is alarming, but it’s there, roots twisting through my brain until they crowd out everything else.
Nice reverse psychology, Lena.
But I’m not sure anything could persuade my dumb heart.
A few weeks in, and I’m dangerously close to catching feelings.
And he’s oblivious to the minor breakdown I’m having right next to him as he hands me his phone and tells me to pick out some music for the drive.
With the windows down and a soft summer breeze kissing our faces, this feels like a movie scene.
You know the one, where the jaded woman who’s been beat around before by love falls for the jock, and everything is perfect—right before the world comes crashing down.
Brady glances at me and reaches over, resting his hand lightly on my thigh. His long fingers curve along my inner thigh, and—
I’m blushing.
Even though we’re in public, at a stoplight in thick evening traffic, with a rescued dog in the back seat, I’m swooning.
Flipping swooning.
And I don’t swoon.
Honestly, it’s embarrassing he has that power. But the giddy buzz in my veins tells me I want him to keep touching me.
Keep the illusion alive just a little while longer.
His fingers press lightly against my skin until I can feel his pressure.
He glances in the rearview mirror, out the window, and then at me, mouthing along to the song I’ve put on—Sabrina Carpenter.
I didn’t even know he was a fan.
But there’s a fire in his eyes, the same way the sun gleams off the mountains as it slips toward the horizon. There’s also an ache between my thighs.
Then he gives me that lazy, heart-shredding smile and moves his hand down to my knee, only releasing me when I’m nearly biting my lip through.
He puts his hand on the wheel again.
And I’m left wondering how the hell any girl can ever resist this without losing her mind.
It’s only Queenie’s first night in Brady’s penthouse, and they’re already inseparable.
She has her bed set up in his room, slumped across it with her head up, looking at us. Every time we look at her, the dog’s tail thumps for attention, but otherwise she’s content.
That makes two of us.
I’m perfectly happy to stay where I am, nestled in Brady’s arms.
He drops a kiss on the end of my nose, which shouldn’t make me want to giggle and squeal the way it does.
Thank God my filter is titanium.
“I’m glad you’re off tomorrow,” he says.
“I know this is a foreign concept to you, but I get days off.”
“Brat, that’s not what I mean. Tomorrow’s important.” He smacks my butt, looking briefly distracted before returning his gaze to my face again.
“Is it?” I frown, trying to remember why it’s so big.
“The charity event I told you about.” He takes a lock of my hair in his fingers and flicks it back and forward.
“Oh, right. Sorry, nurse brain. What’s this thing again?”
“An excuse to meet my father.”
Queenie looks at us curiously, wagging her tail. She must notice the way my body tenses.
“It’s okay, girl,” I say.
“The old man softened up after my mother raved about you,” he says. “For him, it’s a rare public appearance. He doesn’t do them often since he had his heart attack. If he wants me to show up with my girl in front of the local money circle, that’s giant.”