Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Ben steps to the door and turns the deadbolt once more, locking us all inside before heading back to his position on the sofa in front of the TV.
Ivy hooks her arm with mine, and we walk toward the kitchen.
“So that’s your hot ex?”
One thing about Ivy is her overly loud personality. Even in this small setting, her voice carries, and I have no doubt Ben heard over the sounds of the television.
“Shh.” My cheeks heat, and to shut up my friend, I hand Ivy her glass. “Here. Take a drink.”
“I’d love one. Tell me all about today! I saw you on TV. I was so worried, but you were amazing, singing without your band and getting the audience to eat out of your hand. I was cheering out loud.”
Her words and tone hold a pride I need to hear from my friend. Someone close to me who understands how hard I’ve worked for the opportunity I have and how important every appearance is toward my goal. I hoped to hear from my mother or father, even from far away they know my schedule, but so far there’s been no word.
I take a long sip of my wine, finishing the glass and pouring another.
“Whoa. Let me catch up!” Ivy laughs and takes a big drink of her own.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say, pulling my friend into a hug. “Thank you for coming over.”
“My best friend is on The Morning Show and kills it. Where else would I be but here to celebrate?” Ivy taps her glass against mine.
For the next couple of hours, we talk and drink, and when the pizza Ben ordered arrives, we share that as well and drink some more.
Ben maintains his seat on the couch, which continues to aggravate me, his aloof manner driving me to distraction. While I can’t get that kiss out of my mind, he seems to have put it behind him, and easily at that.
Pouting and tipsy, I lean closer to Ivy, who just finished regaling me with a story about her latest date, an online site disaster of a matchup.
“I kissed Ben after the show today,” I whisper.
My friend starts to reply, and I place a hand over her mouth before Ivy can shout something I don’t want Ben to hear. “He hasn’t mentioned it since,” I say just as softly.
“He’s a tough one.” Ivy glances over at Ben. “I think the fact that you’re both under one roof is going to make things escalate sooner rather than later.”
“I hope so,” I say and pour another glass of wine for fortification.
Chapter Four
Ben
I tell myself that the earlier kiss was the result of Summer’s adrenaline rush and nothing more. I’m not sure I believe it, not given how quickly it escalated, how good her lush body felt in my arms, and how hard I am for her, even now, hours later. But I have no choice but to push forward and do my job, and that means pretending the kiss never happened. Which isn’t easy when I am in Summer’s orbit, surrounded by her soft scent and the driving need I have to do more than just kiss her.
The women are talking to each other in the small kitchen area. Despite having the television on, I just heard the story of Ivy and her last date, something I wish I could un-hear.
“You’ll never guess who I ran into at Starbucks,” Ivy says, her voice louder with each successive glass of wine.
“Who?”
“Your ex, Ryan.”
“Really? How does he look?” Summer asks.
If he is an ex, why does Summer care how this Ryan guy looks? I think with an irritable frown.
“His hair grew, and he has a beard. He looked good.”
“Too bad he sucked in bed,” Summer says, ending that sentence on a giggle that has to be the result of too much wine.
Jesus. The last vision I want is one of Summer naked and in bed with some guy named Ryan. Or any guy, for that matter, whether or not he is bad in the sack. I wish I had the luxury of drinking like the women are, but I don’t indulge while on the job.
“He did say to tell you he’d like to hear from you again.”
Despite myself, I cock my head their way, wanting to hear Summer’s reply.
She shakes her head at her friend’s suggestion. “No way. He’s way too uptight. He had to fold his clothes neatly before we ever made it to the bed. Who does that?”
“Not a guy who can’t keep his hands off you, that’s for sure.”
I curl my hands into tight fists. This conversation and the subject of Summer’s ex and how he was in bed are giving me fits. On the one hand, jealousy eats at me that she’s been with other men, not that I’ve been celibate in the time since we were together last. And on the other hand, I am pissed at myself for caring what she was up to with other men when I am so determined to keep things between us professional.