Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
"From what I just saw, bud, you've got your work cut out for you." He removes the toothpick from his mouth, keeping himself busy from reaching for the cigarettes he quit months ago.
"You're probably right. Still, the chase is a hell of a lot of fun." I don't give Colt my full attention until Coralynn climbs inside her bright red sporty two-door convertible with the top down.
"I can only imagine." Her brake lights appear before she zooms out of the parking lot like hell on wheels, and that's when I respond to Colt's last statement.
"What are you doing at the hospital and over here, of all places?" I ask.
"My mom. Routine maintenance." He talks like it's a car. Can't take the mechanic out of the man.
"That's better than what the alternative could be."
"I'll say. Not the biggest fan of hospitals." He places the toothpick back in his mouth at the same time my phone vibrates in my pocket.
"Can't say that I blame you. I've got to get back into the office. If you need anything, give me a shout, yeah?"
"I'll give you a shout later on." I pull my phone out of my doctor's coat, I forgot to take it off before stepping out for lunch. The damn thing is so hot, I try to keep it tucked away in my office more than on my back. Today, I had rounds at the hospital, then had an errand to run, and by pure chance, when I got back, Coralynn happened to be leaving.
"Sure thing. Good luck with Coralynn. I think you're gonna need it." He goes one way, and I go mine.
A good thing, too. Coralynn shocks me to my core when an image appears on my phone.
Coralynn: A little something to leave you with.
The picture is of her, a peppermint candy held between her top and bottom teeth, a teasing smile, a wink, and a glint in her eyes that’s full of mischievousness. I’m in for it. Completely. Now it’s time for me to think about my next play. The victory is going to be sweet as hell, exactly like Coralynn Parker.
ONE
Coralynn
PRESENT DAY
“It’s going to be worth it in the end,” I tell myself, looking at the caution tape leading upstairs to where the addition is being added to our studio, LITHE.
“That’s what I keep telling myself, too.” My sister Shae comes up beside me with Luke, her man, but he’s more like her husband already, even if they haven’t sealed the deal. The slight bump she’s sporting has them fast-tracking a wedding, which takes place a week from today. A literal winter wedding where they’ll say their nuptials in a forest-like setting. It’s going to be beautiful, over the top, and everything my sister and her fiancé deserve.
“At the rate everyone’s working, it won’t be much longer,” Luke says. It’s hard to see because right now, the yellow glaring caution tape bars the entrance to the existing staircase. The one snafu in the building plans that Crew and Serena ran into was being in compliance with the city ordinance as well as the historic society. I knew we’d have to incorporate an elevator somehow, but managing to keep it cohesive with the rest of the building inside and out was a nightmare.
It's a good thing Jagger and his company, Jagged Edge Builders, were more than up for the challenge, going so far as to call in reinforcements in the form of friends. We all pulled our weight and managed to get the demolition portion done on Sunday and Monday. Of course, that also meant seeing Doctor Anthony Gallo, the man who preoccupies my every waking moment. He’s also the man who has held my attention the longest. Anytime I run, he chases, and there’s a thrill to knowing that I have a man like Tony wrapped around my finger.
And little does he know that I’m more than infatuated with him, too.
He’s the kind of man who commands your attention without asking, and up close, his features only amplify him being god’s favorite because of how he’s sculpted—sharp angles softened by his smile, hair that’s a tousled mess of dark curls, reminding me of a look that’s touched by sleep, or my personal favorite, my hands running through it. And that single curl that always falls onto his forehead, no matter how many times he tries to get it to stay out of his eyes. The lock of hair seems to defy gravity, giving him a boyish charm to his otherwise ruggedness.
His eyes hold a stormy depth, the sort that suggests he’s always thinking about his next move. Then I just happened to notice the last time we were alone together, when the sun shone a certain way, the flecks of gold in his otherwise warm green eyes, and all they did was make me want to stare longer. The complete opposite of what I should want when playing hard to get.