Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Denial is so entertaining. Can you do more of it? I find it amusing.”
I snort-laugh but hold my ground. “Dad. Stop.”
“Oh, please. Baby pictures? Who asks to see baby pictures?”
I furrow my brow as my feet sink into the soft sand. “Everyone? Isn’t that normal, to want to look at baby photos?”
“Nope. A man who is keen on a woman wants to see baby pictures. I know because I used that same trick with your mother back when I was courting her.”
I weave around a group of women taking selfies in their microscopic bikinis. “But he’s not courting me,” I point out. “And just because I might have told you once that I thought he had a pretty face doesn’t mean anything will happen.”
“Want to know what I’m doing right now?” he asks in a leading tone.
“What are you doing?” I ask carefully, though I know he’s setting me up for something. I duck out of the way of a volleyball whizzing past me. A fit, dark-haired guy with bronze skin who’s wearing a painted-on pair of yellow swim trunks jogs after it, winking at me as he runs.
“Sitting at the desk that the man who is keen on my daughter made for me,” my dad declares, sounding thoroughly satisfied with his pronouncement.
I shake my head, amused at my dad’s persistence. No wonder he was a top journalist in his day. He’s a dog with a bone. But I’m not a queen of spin for nothing. “He helped out. It was that simple. Nothing more to it.”
My dad scoffs. “He helped out because he’s a nice guy. I’ll give you that.” He clears his throat. “But he’s a nice guy who happens to be quite fond of you. Mark my words. Sooner or later, Jones Beckett is going to make his intentions clear.”
I swallow, and a spray of nerves hits me in the face. Or maybe it’s the water from a water gun. Oh yeah, that’s it. Yellow Swim Trunks Dude is now spraying his buddy with an orange Nerf gun, and I’m collateral damage in the battle. I wipe the drops from my cheek as Swim Trunks mouths so sorry, but he’s smiling as he says it.
“I love you, Dad, and your wild imagination,” I say, and I put the conversation inside a box then stuff it in a far corner of my brain.
But after I hang up, some hopeful part of me wonders if there’s a chance my father is correct. Does Jones have a thing for me? That doesn’t compute. But as I search for the holes in my dad’s logic, my mind flashes to all the times Jones has touched me—from his arm around me as we walked along the craggy shores of Stinson Beach, to his fingers laced through mine in the elevator, to his body curled around me in bed.
Do those moments mean Jones is keen on me?
I flip through them once more, hunting for clues, like the feel of his hand on my hair in the car while I slept in his lap. He stroked my hair. Was that romantic?
I plop down on the beach, reflecting on what I’d do if he made his intentions clear. I’d say no. Of course I’d say no. Wouldn’t I?
I nod to myself, answering my own question.
I’d say, “Thank you very much, but it’s a bad idea to go on a date with you, no matter how sweet and kind and good with animals and thoughtful you are, and no matter how helpful you are with my dad, or how much I love all our conversations.”
Groaning in frustration, I run my hands through my hair, my head falling against my knees. I wish I didn’t like him so damn much.
There is only one person to turn to. I fire off a text to Katie.
Jillian: Be brutally honest. No smoke up my skirt, hear me?
Katie: Yes, you can buy me tickets to the new Outrageous Record show, and it will, in fact, make me love you more.
Jillian: Oh good, I was worried you’d be annoyed if I snagged first-row seats. Same apply to Jane Black, too?
Katie: Do not ever joke about Jane Black tickets. But what do you really want me to be brutally honest about?
Jillian: Did you mean it when you said you thought there was something up with Jones?
Katie: How can I make this clear??? YES! YES! YES! Also, does that mean something is happening? I NEED DETAILS NOW!
Jillian: No. Nothing at all. Just thinking . . .
Katie: You’re thinking about it? About him? About taking him for a ride around the block? For the record, I’m at my desk, officially squealing as I stop my review of IMPORTANT THINGS like the length of skirts for the spring. Because this is FAR MORE INTERESTING.
Jillian: Nothing will happen. There are all sorts of HUGE obstacles. Also, care to spill on the upcoming length of hemlines?