Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
She’s brilliant, and I’m a world-class idiot. Why didn’t I assume she’d told the cover up like she said she would?
Because you don’t trust people you’re into.
“It was pretty cool,” I say, nonchalant and cool. Like a boss who really does play golf instead of sing cover tunes.
Levi nudges me. “Member? Aren’t you Mister Fancy Pants?”
And I will take this teasing, thank you very much. I shrug sheepishly. “I like golf.”
At least that’s not a lie.
“I’ll say,” Zuri says with a whistle. “Member? Damn. Someone’s bougie.”
Hazel frowns. “Too bad. I thought it was a mini-golf thing. And we’d be doing night golf with windmills and waterwheels. Real golf is so boring.”
Levi nods. “Like, put me to sleep right now.”
“Let us know when you get a membership at a cool place like mini golf,” Zuri adds.
“I will,” I say, meaning it from the bottom of my relieved heart.
“Well, you don’t know what you’re missing,” Chloe says.
“I’ll have to trust you on that,” Levi says.
The Husky yaps again—a cue to get back to work. Another cue comes in the form of Salma who pushes open the door, Dandelion trotting by her side.
“Hey, Salma. Nice to see you two again,” I say, grateful to focus on the business.
“Dandelion practically pulled me here all the way from the market. She’s obsessed with this place.”
“That’s what we like to hear,” Zuri says, then toggles the mouse to wake up the computer screen. “Let me check you in.”
I head to my office and snick the door shut. I let out a long breath as I sink down in my chair.
That was a close call. A lesson for me too, perhaps. In trust. But can anyone blame me?
I flip open my laptop so I can bury myself in reports today when there’s a rap on my door. I wish I could ignore it, but that’s not in the cards. “Come in,” I say.
Chloe slinks inside, and her Cheshire-cat grin is more satisfied than it was last night. “I was out grabbing a latte.” She takes a long, leisurely sip from her cup. “Good thing I returned in the nick of time. I’m guessing you didn’t check your texts?”
“You texted me?”
“Dude. Yes. But also, what the hell? We agreed on night golf.”
I grab my phone and spot a text preview from her.
Chloe: Don’t you worry your pretty head off. I smoothed the path for the night golf cover-up.
I laugh. “Guess I should have checked it. In my defense, though, it sounded like they were talking about…you know.”
“Oh, I do know. I definitely know.” She pops up on my desk, perching her sweet ass there and crossing her legs. She blows out a too-pleased breath. “But it’s all good, Mister Fancy Pants. Especially since I know my price now.”
“Price?” I ask, arching a brow.
“For my silence,” she says, then hops off the desk. “See you at Prohibition Spirit at eight.”
She sails off, and once again I’m both dreading and counting down the hours till I see her after work.
Mostly, counting them down.
Mostly.
* * *
Is it normal to walk into a not-date a little turned on by the potential of blackmail? Not asking for a friend.
At 7:59 p.m., I open the door to the speakeasy with a ready-or-not-here-I-come attitude. Fact is, I’m dying to know what’s going on in that sexy head of hers.
Will the price be, I don’t know, spicy lessons? Not that Chloe needs any. But a man can dream. If she asked me to teach her some new sex thing, I’d gladly go out and do whatever new sex thing that was with her.
Except, wait. Nope. I’m not doing that. We stopped any and all sex things a few weeks ago. Best to stay the course. I weave past tables, heading straight to the bar where she’s waiting. Kicking her leg back and forth like she hasn’t stopped since this morning.
When I join her, she says, “Well, well, well.”
“You really like saying that, don’t you?”
“I’m learning I really do,” she says.
I park myself on a stool, resigned to my fate. “All right. What’s the price?”
Her jaw drops in mock outrage. “You’re not even going to buy me a drink first?”
“I need to treat you as you blackmail me?”
She stares at me without blinking. “I feel like you didn’t read the rules of blackmail, mister.”
I sigh. “A mojito with their best rum?”
She smiles. “We understand each other.”
I lift a hand, catch Esmeralda’s attention, then place the order.
“And a whiskey sour for you?” she asks.
“Works for me.”
Esmeralda glances from Chloe to me, then smiles smugly. “One whiskey sour and one mojito coming right up for…the hot date.”
Everyone in this town has the memory of an elephant. “Call it whatever you want,” I say, still more unbothered than I should be over the possibility of Esmeralda thinking I’m seeing Chloe.
Maybe because it feels like I am when I’m here in this bar with her? Like this place belongs to a Chloe and Sawyer who are somehow dating? But that’s a risky thought to entertain, so I set it out of my mind as Esmeralda gets to work mixing.