Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“And our winner is,” Jill shouts, “setting a new record and ignoring the fact that this is the first time we ever did this shit, so there is no record—”
“Mommy said a bad word,” Sienna chirps, covering Jill’s mouth.
“—Verity!” Jill mumbles through her daughter’s fingers. “With six apples!”
Verity jumps up and down like she’s won a car on The Price Is Right. She’s one of those people—a bud when you first meet her, closed tight, but over time, as she becomes more comfortable, unfurls. She must have bonded with the crew while I was in New York for her to be this uninhibited.
“You did it!” A tall guy with dirty blond hair picks her up and spins her around, his arm under her ass.
The smile freezes on my face. My hands stop mid-clap.
Who the hell is he?
“Oh my God!” Verity screeches, laughing at him and tapping his shoulder. “Put me down, Chris.”
Yeah, Chris. Put her the fuck down.
He slowly—it feels reallllly slow to me—lowers her to the ground. I’ve always wondered what people mean when they say heart eyes, what that looks like. Now I know. That has to be the best way to describe the goofy way Chris looks at Verity. She’s oblivious, stripping off the plastic poncho and shaking her hair out so it settles around her shoulders. Needless to say, Chris is riveted. I’m still watching the Chris of Hearts show when Jill steps up beside me.
“Welcome back,” she says, reaching up for a one-armed hug.
“Thanks.” I keep one eye on lover boy over at the apples.
“Productive trip?”
Chris squats to slip one red shoe onto Verity’s foot, her hand on his shoulder to stabilize herself.
“Monk?” Jill says pointedly. “I said, ‘Productive trip?’”
“Huh?” I force focus to Jill, peering down into her green eyes. “Yeah, got lots done. Hey, who’s the guy over by the apples?”
“By the apples?” Jill asks tongue in cheek. “Or by Verity?”
“Screw you. What’s his story?”
“Touchyyyyyy.” Her laugh is evil. “So our little screenwriter, huh? Damn, I’m good. I mean, can I call it, or can I call it?”
“You’re not as cute as you think you are. What’s up with Chris?”
“He works with production.” She shifts Sienna on her hip and brushes the curls from her daughter’s forehead. “Nice guy.”
“I’m sure he is.” I turn to face her. “I think you need him over here.”
“Oh, do I?” Her lips quirk and she lifts one brow. “You and Canon and these girls.”
“I’ll go get him for you.”
I walk over to the table and stop in front of them.
“And then I thought…” Verity’s words trail off, and the open expression on her face seconds ago falls away, a guard slipping into place when her eyes meet mine.
“Hey, Chris,” I say, ignoring her. “It is Chris, right?”
“Yeah,” he replies with an easy smile. “Welcome back, Monk.”
“Thanks,” I say, forcing a smile in return. “I think Jill needs you.”
“Needs me for what?” His brows pinch and he looks over at Jill, who rolls her eyes and waves.
“Don’t know.” I shrug. “You’ll have to ask her.”
“I’ll be back.” He touches Verity’s shoulder and then heads for Jill, who gives me the stink eye.
I wanted to get rid of the guy, but now that he’s gone, I have nothing to say. The silence stretches like a tightrope, and before I speak, Verity does.
“So how was New York?” she asks, tugging down the sweatshirt that falls to the middle of her thighs.
“Fine.” I grab an unused apple from the table. “I got the chance to conduct.”
Her face relaxes into a small grin. “I’ve never seen you conduct.”
“No?” I pretend to think about it, knowing she’s right. “I guess it never came up when we knew each other.”
She bites her thumbnail, which used to be a sure sign she had something she wasn’t sure she should say. I wonder if it still is.
“What?” I ask.
“What, what?” She frowns and tilts her head, nail still caught between her teeth.
“You’re doing that thing where you bite your nails and kind of look like you’re holding in a fart.”
“I do not!” she sputters, but laughs. “God, you’re such a boy.”
“Never denied it.” I give in to the grin that keeps trying to work its way onto my face despite my best efforts. “But you do get this look like you’re not saying something that you’re thinking.”
“How do you even remember that?”
“I remember everything.”
Her smile wavers, and I know she thinks I’m alluding to how we broke up, but for once, I’m allowing myself to remember how we were together. Before it went bad, it was the best I ever had.
She clears her throat and tugs at the sweatshirt again. “There is something I wanted to run by you, but wasn’t sure…”
She bites her nail again. I slowly push her hand away from her mouth. Even just this simple touch ignites a spark. I’d bet my Grammy it’s not just on my end, not with the way Verity’s eyes widen and her breath hitches. It’s been twelve years since we first met, but in all that time that spark hasn’t faded.