Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“I’ll figure it out.”
She huffs, and her right cheek tics with irritation. It’s hot, which is frustrating. Why does she have to be so brain-meltingly attractive and sassy and competent?
“Look, Nate, I get that maybe this stuff isn’t your top priority, and you obviously have other things going on.” She motions to my whiteboard. “But Rix deserves to have the best stag and doe in the history of the universe, and that’s what I’m trying to plan. If you’re going to flake out, or be a hindrance, step the fuck out of the way and let me run things.”
Work me takes that as a challenge. But as I gaze down at this tiny, polished, annoyed woman, I realize she truly loves Rix. Why else would she come all the way across town just to make sure I’ll follow through? She has no reason to believe I will since I’ve let her down in the past, and I’ve been letting her down by not being engaged in all this planning shit. More than that, I’m letting my brother down by not showing up the way I should. Tristan deserves the same special experience Essie wants to give her best friend.
“The presentation took up all my bandwidth,” I confess. “But it’s done now. I promise I will send photographic evidence of the Plinko board as soon as I can, and I will have a means to transport it to Huntsville for the weekend.” There. I’m stepping up and assuaging her concerns. “Is there anything else you’re concerned about that needs my attention?” Like your nipples.
I really need her out of my office. She smells fantastic, and she’s far too good a friend to Rix, and I’m so fucking antsy and full of self-loathing over my inability to stop thinking about her pretty mouth, and other body parts I’d like to explore. Not to mention my inability to be anything but a constant dick when she’s around.
“I’ll hold you to it with the photographic evidence. Also, I sent you a calendar invitation days ago, and you haven’t accepted.” Essie scrolls through her calendar and taps a button.
“For what?”
She holds up her tablet. “Dance lessons.”
“Dance lessons?”
“Rix would like to be prepared with more than our dance routine from junior high. Tristan is game because he loves her and wants what she wants. I told her we’d join them for solidarity, and so we don’t look like bumbling idiots during the wedding reception.”
“I can dance just fine,” I argue. I also don’t know if I can handle touching Essie for an extended period without drowning in my own disdain.
She blinks up at me, wearing a placid smile. “Are you saying you won’t support Tristan and Rix? Because if that’s the case, I can ask Flip. I’m sure he’d be happy to take dance lessons with me.”
“No. Don’t ask Flip.”
“Are you afraid Flip will show you up?”
“No, that’s not—”
“That he’ll have better moves than you?”
“No, I—”
“Then what’s stopping you, Nathan?”
“I’m accepting the invitation right now.” I’ll never hear the end of it if Flip takes my place at the dance lessons. And I won’t let Tristan down. I scroll through my calendar notifications and reply yes. The lessons populate in my phone. I show it to Essie. “There. Happy?”
“Immensely.” Her tone drips sarcasm. She glances at her phone. “I have to stop at The Party Place to pick up decorations.”
“I can pick up decorations,” I offer.
She pats me on the chest. “Just get that Plinko board ready.” She spins, and her long, dark hair fans out impressively.
Why the hell do I suddenly have the desire to shove my hands and face into it and inhale?
“I’ll walk you out.” I saw the heads turn when we were coming to my office.
“That’s not necessary.”
“I have to meet a colleague.” There. Now she can’t read into my motives.
Greg perks up as we pass his office. Every single head turns in our direction as I walk her to the elevator. Guys I don’t even know say hello. Essie smiles and murmurs a greeting in response while I just nod, my irritation growing with every lingering look.
I work in an office full of engineers. We’re all science nerds. Women like Essie—who look like they stepped out of a magazine—are infrequent around here. I place a protective hand at the base of her spine and rush her to the elevators, pushing the button with the side of my wrist.
“I’ll have the Plinko board done. And I’ll check your spreadsheet and see what else I can tackle.” I also plan to add a couple of games, but I won’t put them on the list.
“Most of it is already handled.”
The doors slide open.
“I’ll see you on Friday in Huntsville.” I shove my hands in my pockets because I don’t know what else to do with them.