Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
That stung to hear. And boy, could I relate. I wasn’t quite afraid I wasn’t going to fit, but I was definitely worried about taking up an inch of space that didn’t belong to me. It was the main reason I always flew business these days. As for being mean to oneself…yeah, been there, done that.
“I know that shame.” I nodded with a dip of my chin. “About six months after my fiancé died, I’d gained more weight than I’d realized, and I legit held my arms closer to my body for a five-hour flight. Just because I’d be mortified if I took up my seat neighbor’s space.”
Curiosity flickered past for a fraction of a second—maybe because it was the first time he’d heard me mention a fiancé—but he stayed on course and nodded.
“And when you’re out on a date, you order a big salad.”
I laughed. “Definitely. I don’t want anyone to think, there she is, scarfing down a big-ass burger.”
Ethan’s amusement held more traces of sympathy, and he swam over to the wall to lean against it. He draped his arms along the edge too.
“That embarrassment must be exhausting.”
I released a breath. “Yeah—but like you said, it becomes second nature.”
He weighed his response and hummed. “It still wears on you.”
I couldn’t deny that.
I cleared my throat and needed something to do, so I moved over to the short end where my water bottle waited for me.
“And you know all this,” I stated. “You seem to have a good understanding of how we think and resonate.”
“Yes.”
Such a short answer. No modesty to be found. And I guessed he didn’t have to be modest; it was just how I was raised. Maybe it was silly.
Ethan smirked. “You think I’m arrogant.”
“No!” I half lied. “I mean—maybe. But no. Not for this reason, anyway.”
He chuckled. “Tell me something you’re really good at.”
I raked my teeth across my bottom lip. “I’d say I’m good at my job.”
“Is it arrogant to say so?” he pressed. “It’s possible I looked you up the other week. Your jewelry’s been on red carpets. It’s been featured in department stores, movies, and morning shows.”
Well…one could argue that I wasn’t taking advantage of my position. I had a small marketing team yelling at me to branch out and grow—and I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep my business tiny and exclusive. I designed every single piece of every single line, and I only released a few collections each year. As such, I remained fairly unknown to the general public.
But I understood his point. “You’re not arrogant for saying you’re good at your job,” I said. “You’re arrogant for thinking I was a lesbian because I didn’t flirt with you.”
He let out a laugh and inclined his head. “I hear you on that one. Even though—at some point—we make assumptions based on history.”
“So you’re saying it’s that rare for women not to hit on you?” I had to know.
He gestured vaguely at his physique. “Can you blame them?”
“Oh my God.” I laughed and uncapped my water bottle. “You really are conceited, Coach.”
He laughed too. “I’m kidding.” No, he fucking wasn’t. “We can discuss my abs another time, though. You should get some more training in.”
Uh-huh.
CHAPTER 6
Ethan Quinn
She was starting to piss me off.
Actually, she was turning into the reason I’d once sworn off a future with someone.
Back then, most of my brothers had been on my side. Darius had flat-out said he’d never settle down either. Now look at him. He had a man and two kids.
When I’d turned thirty-five, I’d been hit with a deep urge to eventually share my life with someone—and that wasn’t fucking happening. Bad date after bad date. I’d had a handful of brief relationships, not one lasting over six months, not one giving me the desire to introduce them to my family. And still, Natalie Nolan was worse.
In my twenties, settling down had been an instant no for me because I’d believed women were just out to trap you. Turned out I was fucking right. Something about Natalie reeled me in. I’d done my best to slam my internal defenses into place, but it wasn’t working with her. I went over our interactions day and night, and everything reminded me of her.
I found myself wanting to text her all the time, whether a recipe made me think of her or I wanted to learn more about her past.
Evidently, she’d been engaged.
She’d been in love. She’d had someone she’d wanted to share the rest of her life with.
She dropped these little tidbits about herself here and there, and they were piling up.
Considering I’d already crossed a couple of lines with how I behaved around her, resulting in my feeling like a dumbass, I didn’t wanna go any further by getting too personal—unless she showed interest. Which she fucking didn’t. Not an ounce of it. And I had to respect that. She had her priorities in order.