Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 26892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
All my best,
Genevieve Merchant
All I have to is press Send, one quick tap of my thumb, a polite, profuse apology, with a lie the size of Texas, and I’ll be off the hook.
“Don’t be a weenie, Gennie,” I mutter out lout to the empty room, squeezing my eyes shut.
Who am I kidding? I’m a total weenie. The charity auction seemed like a harmless idea when Ana’s mom mentioned it, a date to raise funds for my childhood best friend. Ana’s research for cancer specifically in children is a good cause. I assumed some local business owner of a friend or acquaintance would bid a couple of hundred dollars of out courtesy, we’d grab a friendly dinner at a restaurant, and everyone would go home happy.
I didn’t account for him.
The memory hits me with a sudden force, a physical impact, making my chest tighten all over again.
“Ugh.” I give up on the email draft, send it to the trash folder, and swipe over to my contacts. It’s way too late here on the West Coast, but that also means it’s just after five in New York. And if there is one person in the entire world who is guaranteed to be wide awake, sipping espresso and pounding away on her laptop, it’s Jett. I hit her contact and bring the phone up to me ear. It rings twice before the line clicks open.
“Tell me someone’s dead or you’re about to tell me something so juicy I won’t care what time in the morning it is.” Jett’s crisp, wide-awake voice cuts through the receiver.
“I’m having a full-blown existential crisis, Jett. I’m seconds away from fleeing the country.” I let out a jagged breath.
“Ah,” Jess says. The faint sound of typing rustles in the background. “The charity date is tomorrow night.”
“Technically, it’s tonight,” I correct, my voice laced with misery. “It’s past midnight, which means I’m scheduled to go on a date with a complete stranger in less than twenty hours.”
“Gennie, sweetie, we’ve talked about this.” Her tone softens into a maternal, no-nonsense voice she reserves for when one of us is spiraling, mostly me. “It’s dinner. You sit across from a guy, eat an expensive meal paid for by him, and then you leave. You’ve been on dates before.”
“Not like this,” I whisper, pulling my knees to my chest. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see him.”
“Okay. I’m listening. Describe him.” The typing on Jett’s end stops instantly.
“I never expected him,” I begin softly. “When I walked out on the stage, I figured the crowd would be filled with local donors, like last year. But then I saw him standing in the dimly lit alcove. And when I tell you he looked like he owned the entire building, I mean more along the lines of the whole damn city.”
“Tall?” Jett asks.
“Impossibly tall,” I breathe. “His shoulders are the kind that make a woman wonder what it would feel like to be wrapped in his arms and never let go. He wore a dark tailored-to-perfection suit that costs more than my annual rent and has chestnut-brown hair and a sharp jawline, but it wasn’t how he looked, Jett. It was the way he looked at me.”
“How?”
“Like…” I swallow, searching for words, feeling a sudden flush creep up my neck thinking about it. “Like I was the only person in the room. No, like I was the meal he was starving for. Jett, I have never been looked at like that in my entire life. It wasn’t polite interest. It was hunger. Pure, unapologetic desire. He was practically eating me up with his eyes while I was standing under the bright stage light, my knees shaking so hard I thought I was going to faint.”
“Do go on,” Jett urges.
“The bidding started at ten thousand dollars,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, catching her up on what happened since her schedule has been so chaotic lately. “A couple of others drove the price up. Then he raised his paddle.”
“How much?” This is what shocked me the most. M y past with men has been nothing short of shitty. As a result, my self-worth, self-doubt, and self-confidence took a hit so deep it’s taken me months to pull myself out with the help of my girls.
“One hundred thousand dollars.” Thick silence hangs between us for a solid five seconds.
“Shut the fuck up. I swear I miss all the good stuff. Damn it,” Jett replies.
“I’m not lying! The entire room went quiet, the auctioneer lost his place in the script, people were literally turning around to stare at him, and he didn’t even blink. He just kept his eyes locked on mine. And do you know who was standing beside him?”
“One hundred Gs?” Jett squeals, her composure completely obliterated. “For a date? I mean no offense by this because you are worth all of that and more, but, man, he must really have a hard-on for you, Gennie.”