Starting From the Top (Starting From #5) Read Online Lane Hayes

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Starting from Series by Lane Hayes
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Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
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Charlie snapped out of his lovesick reverie and gave me a sharp look. “I doubt Clay is the guy for you, but an innocent date certainly couldn’t hurt, right?”

I shot a quick glance at Sean as he pulled a beer from the fridge, then leaned against the counter and shrugged. “I guess not.”

“That’s the spirit!” He patted my cheek like an old aunt. “I’m off to mingle. Want to join me?”

“No, thanks.”

I sipped my beer, watching Charlie slip through the small throng of guests clustered in the great room near the open wall of windows. I zoned out for a moment. Lighthearted conversation and laughter floated around me, echoing off the high ceilings and hardwood flooring. The open floor plan had nice views of the pool and the ginormous flat-screen TV above the fireplace. When my place was ready, I wanted to get a cushy leather sectional like Tegan and Dec’s and—

“Do you have the bottle opener?”

I blinked stupidly and probably blushed before the request registered.

“Uh…” I found the opener I’d used earlier on the counter and handed it over. “Here you go.”

Sean thanked me as he uncapped his beer. I expected him to move on, but he didn’t. He used the opener, then set it on the island and raised his bottle in a toast.

“How’s it goin’, neighbor?”

I smiled politely and inclined my head. “Pretty good. You?”

“I can’t complain,” Sean flashed a lopsided grin. “How was your first night in your new place?”

“Great. Except…I forgot to bring clean sheets,” I reported.

“Did you bring dirty sheets?”

“No, smartass. I had my comforter and I remembered my pillows…plural.”

“You sleep with two pillows?”

“One soft, one firm. Gotta have options.”

Sean snorted. “There must be twenty ways to make a dirty joke out of that, but I’ll refrain.”

“Such control,” I praised sarcastically.

“Comes with age.” Sean lifted his beer in a mock toast. “Did you safely deliver the color wheel?”

“Yep. Mission accomplished.”

“Good.”

Commence awkward silence.

Sean took a swig of his bottle, glancing away briefly. When he met my gaze again, my pulse skyrocketed. I didn’t get it. I mean…I wasn’t attracted to the guy.

Was I?

I studied his full lips and square jaw a beat longer than necessary, then made a halfhearted motion toward the action outside. “I should go—”

“Before you do…I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with Charlie.”

I furrowed my brow. “You were eavesdropping?”

“Yeah, but not on purpose,” he replied with a half chuckle, pointing at the high ceiling. “Voices carry.”

“Mmhmm. And what’d you hear?”

“The bit about the indie publisher, Clay Kanzler. Word of advice…don’t get involved with him.”

Was he serious?

“Thanks, but I’m a big boy. I can handle him,” I scoffed.

“I’m sure you can. The thing is, people like Clay are easily blinded by ambition. He isn’t intrinsically evil, but he’s a shark and—”

“And you’re not?”

Sean stared at me for a long moment. I was actually impressed that I didn’t flinch. It wasn’t easy. His molten gaze cut through my bravado like a knife through soft butter, which, of course, made me crazy. I’d worked my ass off to get to a place where I made the rules. I wasn’t some stupid-ass vigilante who jumped behind random causes to stir shit up. I was smart.

Smart enough to know that stomping my feet and telling him to fuck off wasn’t the best way to deal with a high-handed bossy bastard.

“Maybe. But you can trust me,” he rasped.

“That’s what all sharks say,” I countered grumpily.

Sean’s lips twisted in wry amusement. “Touché. There are a few kinds of sharks, though.”

“Hammerheads, great whites, tiger sharks…what are you?”

“Let’s just say I’m not the type who’d take naked photos of you sleeping and post them on the Internet. For a guy who’s almost famous…I’m going to assume that isn’t a risk you’d want to take.”

I furrowed my brow so hard my forehead hurt. “Are you speaking from personal experience?”

“If you’re asking if I was ever intimate with Clay, the answer is no. I wouldn’t touch him with anyone else’s dick. But I know him. I respect his art. He’s good at what he does. He’s just not trustworthy. That’s all.” Sean gave a careless shrug. “Hey, I’d be a real asshole if I didn’t share what I know. You’re my new neighbor, my dog likes you, and since you kissed me, I’ll assume you like me too.”

“We agreed that didn’t happen,” I huffed incredulously.

Sean grinned. “I couldn’t resist. You’re cute when you get flustered.”

“I’m not cute, and I’m not flustered. Thanks for looking out for me, but—”

“You’re welcome.” Sean clicked his bottle against mine, then set it on the counter.

“I was being facetious. I appreciate the warning, but I’m a big boy.”

Sean gave me an eagle-eyed once-over. “I know you are. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Insulted wasn’t the right word. I was irked.

My brain processed his friendly warning as authoritarian posturing. It took serious effort not to revert to my teenage rebellious side. Sixteen-year-old me would have told him to fuck himself. Mature me knew there were better ways to deal with overbearing, nosy older men. The last thing I wanted to do was show weakness or melt under pressure.


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