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)
The door to the shed swings open, and Essie tears her mouth from mine. I spin to face the intruder, ready to give them shit for interrupting, except it’s Mrs. Bright—the owner of this shed and the lawn tractor we’re making out on, and the mother of Dallas Bright.
“We got locked in,” Essie rushes to explain as she smooths out her skirt.
The corner of Mrs. Bright’s mouth twitches. “You don’t have to defile the lawn mower. We have plenty of more comfortable spots available, which you can use like civilized folk.”
“I panicked. Nate was distracting me.”
“Seems like it worked,” Mrs. Bright observes.
“I should deliver the paper towels.” Essie grabs them from the ground and rushes out, disappearing around the corner.
I take a step toward the door. “I’m going to…just…go. Sorry, Mrs. Bright.” I head toward the lake instead of following Essie back to the party.
What the hell did I just do? Worse, why do I want to do it again as soon as humanly possible?
CHAPTER 8
NATE
“That prototype is gorgeous,” Greg says as we step into the local pub to grab an after-work drink.
“Super impressive,” Bill agrees.
“Imagine how cool it would be to have your skate promoted by your brother’s team,” Patrick adds, voice filled with awe and envy.
“It would be great for my career,” I agree.
Greg elbows me. “Is that the hottie who stopped by our office last week?”
I follow his gaze as we head for our usual table. Standing less than fifteen feet away is Essie. “Uh, yeah, it is.”
She’s dressed in a pink crop top with poofy sleeves, high-waisted jeans, and a pair of pink heels. Her hair hangs over her shoulders in artful waves, her makeup runway ready. She looks gorgeous—as usual—and also uncomfortable. A smile is plastered on her face. Her head is tipped slightly to the side, and she’s twirling a lock of hair around her finger. It seems more like a nervous habit than flirtatious. It’s so different from the feisty, competitive, sharp-tongued Essie I deal with.
My gaze shifts to follow hers. She’s talking to a behemoth of a guy. He looks like he was carved out of marble and brought to life. Their level of attractiveness matches. I immediately dislike him.
Essie’s eyes flare slightly when they find me. Mere feet separate me from her and the Adonis. Her entire demeanor shifts. She stops twirling her hair and a wide, heart-stopping smile lights up her face. “Nathan, baby, there you are!” She grabs my hand and pulls me over, ducking under my arm and snuggling into my side. I’m hit with her cotton candy and lightly floral scent. She fits perfectly against my side.
“Hey, Ess,” I say slowly, going along with whatever this is, mostly out of curiosity and also because I like touching her and don’t want to stop.
“Jason, this is my boyfriend, Nathan.”
I swallow my shock. I’m not a small guy, far from it, but Jason looks like he eats guys like me for lunch. He could snap me like a twig. Still, I don’t drop my arm, or call her out. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Jason looks disappointed as fuck, and like he’s assessing this pairing.
Essie presses her hand against my chest and looks up at me with adoring eyes. “Nate is an engineer. He designs sports equipment. Right now he’s working on a design for a new ice skate, and it’s just beautiful.”
“Cool. That’s cool.” Jason nods like things are starting to make sense.
“Nate, Jason is a fitness influencer. He has a younger sister who follows my socials,” Essie explains.
“She loves Essie’s makeup tutorials and skin care stuff. Essie inspired her to apply for makeup artist programs in the city.” Jason’s face is turning red.
I bet Jason’s sister isn’t the only one who watches Essie’s makeup tutorials. I don’t spend much time on social media, but I might have to start.
“Essie’s an inspiration.” I pull her tighter against my side, like a proud boyfriend would. “The way she transforms people is a real art.”
“Totally, yeah, man,” Jason agrees, eyes bouncing between me and Essie.
Essie smiles up at me. “I just make people look good. You’re the real artist.”
“Don’t downplay your skill set, sweetness. You make people look and feel like the best versions of themselves.”
Except me, obviously, but that’s not her fault, it’s mine.
“That’s really sweet,” she says.
“You’re really sweet,” I counter.
“I’m gonna go.” Jason thumbs over his shoulder. “Thanks for the photo. My sister will be so excited.”
“You’re welcome,” Essie says with genuine sincerity.
“Nice to meet you, man.” Jason nods to me.
“You too,” I lie.
Jason heads for the door. He barely clears it as he leaves the bar.
Essie elbows me in the side. “He’s gone. Why are you still touching me?”
The whiplash is strong. “You put my arm around you.”
She fluffs her hair and smooths her hands over her hips. That smile I know so well is plastered on her face again. “And you couldn’t text me back six years ago. Thanks for your help. I accept your apology.” She pats me on the chest. “You’re absolved of your crimes against me.”