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)
To be honest, I didn’t want to think about it. Showing my face in my stores was one thing, but having two cameras in my face…? No thanks. Safe to say, my marketing team was gonna get an earful tomorrow. I hadn’t been able to say anything today since we’d been freaking live on my Instagram.
“Yes, ma’am—but for the record, we got a lot of sales online today,” Jocelyn responded. “I can’t wait for New York to beat them!”
I chuckled and shook my head. The competition going on between my stores was fun.
“On that note, are you coming here next or Chicago?” she asked.
“Probably all four, actually,” I sighed. It would be the holidays by then, an important time of the year. “New York is my flagship, though. I’ll definitely be there.”
Truth be told, I had half a mind to open a small shop in Camassia that I could run on my own. That was why I had rented a studio with a storefront.
After wrapping up my conversation with my favorite New York gal, I ordered dinner and changed into a top and pajama shorts, and I caught a glance at myself in the full-length mirror next to the hallway.
Huh.
I bit my lip.
Didn’t the shorts seem a little…loose?
I hadn’t worn these in a while.
I smiled to myself and plopped down on the bed, and I figured I could text Ethan.
Hey, Coach! Guess who just put on pajamas and noticed they’re a little big? (Ordered room service too. You’d be proud! Grilled shrimp with a salad and no dressing.)
Things felt…good. Fresh out of the shower, slightly loose pajamas, nice hotel suite, grand view on the balcony, Miami’s nightlife waking up some ten stories below, my sore feet could finally rest, and a big-big-big bed. The only thing missing was my dinner.
A flash of a man appeared in my mind, Ethan walking toward me with a towel wrapped around his hips, and I shook my head quickly and screwed my eyes shut.
Christ on a cracker!
That had to stop.
I slapped my hands to my face and groaned.
Last night, I’d spent an hour analyzing memories of Ethan Quinn’s smiles.
Smirks were supposed to be cocky, and his were too, but they were decidedly warm as well. A warm smirk. That was evidently a thing.
“Stop it,” I whispered to myself.
My phone buzzed, and I hurriedly opened the text from Ethan.
That’s fucking incredible! Good job, Natalie. Isn’t that better than hopping on a scale, to see it and feel it in your clothes?
I beamed. He was so right. He was also still typing, so I waited.
Not to say I wasn’t curious about my weight and measurements, but I wanted to hold on for a while longer. If I weighed myself today and noticed I’d only lost five or six pounds, I wouldn’t be able to logic my way out of that defeat. Even though I knew very well that muscle weighed more than fat and so on.
I’m having shrimp for dinner too. With roasted brussels sprouts. But I’m at home with nothing to do. You’re in Miami. Shouldn’t you be out trying a nice restaurant? Pajamas at eight PM on a Saturday…
Oh, please! If only he knew how I’d struggled today. Goodness, I’d been on my feet since seven this morning.
My fingers flew across the keyboard.
First of all, yes, it feels good to see the weight loss in the mirror. Second of all, my feet are killing me! I wish I could have someone come up and rub them LOL. Third of all, nothing tops a night in with room service and PJs. :P
What I didn’t ask was why he didn’t have a date…
I released a breath.
What was happening? Was I developing some insane crush on my conceited yet super kind PT? How pathetic!
Oh God.
I went rigid where I sat, and I stared wide-eyed at nothing. I was one of those women he’d told me about. All those clients and members who’d flirted with him over the years? I was one of them. Fucking hell.
My phone buzzed again, and I dropped my gaze.
Ms. Nolan, I’m your PT. Please keep your foot fetish to yourself. This is entirely inappropriate.
I exhaled a laugh and slapped a hand against my face again.
Did he have to be so funny?
Two quiet knocks on the door alerted me to the arrival of my dinner, so I scrambled out of bed and scurried over to the door. While a polite server wheeled in a cart, I grabbed my purse to tip him. But the only thing I could think about was what to text Ethan. I wanted to keep the banter going.
“Thank you so much.” I handed over a five-dollar bill, eager to get back to bed. Where my phone was waiting.
“Thank you, ma’am. Enjoy.”
The moment the door closed, I locked it and pushed the food cart to my bed, and I lifted the lid off the bowl. Damn, that looked good. Baby greens and loads of grilled shrimp. Some bread too—don’t mind if I do. I’d been good all day. If I skipped the butter…