Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
I laugh, and tap out a quick message.
CC: My mind is officially blown.
GQ: Is that all it takes? Should have done a pirouette for the shoot.
CC: Fairly certain would have resulted in panties going up in flames when that got out.
GQ: You say the nicest things, Chester.
Since I know he’s doing it to irk me, I let “Chester” slide.
CC: I’ll bite. Why are you taking ballet classes?
GQ: Jake found out about it when he pulled a hamstring and had to limber up. It’s great for flexibility, balance . . . stamina.
GQ: It’s GREAT for stamina.
CC: You keep repeating that like I’m supposed to be impressed.
GQ: Oh, you will be.
Cheeky, little . . . I start to type out an answer but he sends another text.
GQ: Plus, all the women in class are very eager to help me maintain my form. 😉
The happy fizz in my belly instantly goes flat, and I’m left with a sour stomach instead. If that isn’t a sign to put the brakes on this, I don’t know what is. I have plenty of male friends. None of them inspire jealousy.
CC: Don’t strain something while you’re at it.
GQ: If I do, will you give me a rubdown?
Right there. That’s flirting. I put down the phone and pace away. Who am I kidding? We’ve been flirting from the start.
James walks in the door and drops his key in the dish. He immediately spots me wearing a groove in the floorboards. “Well, someone has lost her happy face.”
“What did we agree on about reminding me to smile?” I warn, not stopping my pacing.
“To not to,” James says happily. “But then we both know I ignore most of your directives, oh mighty queen.”
The phone dings again. I eye it like a snake.
James unwinds the orange scarf wrapped around his neck. It clashes horribly with his hair and beard, but I suspect he likes that. “All right,” he says. “Who is harassing you? Is it that diva Maria? Tell her the camera can perform certain illusions, but it can’t wash the bitch out of her hair.”
I choke back a laugh. Maria is a model we worked with a while back. She had insisted that I’d shot her in unflattering angles. Not true. She is gorgeous. But insecure. And a complete pain in my ass.
“Thankfully, I haven’t heard from her since I told her there was a tornado warning in effect and to look out for flying farmhouses.”
James snickers as he makes a cappuccino. “So then who is texting your knickers in a knot?”
“Finn.”
He almost stumbles, foam sloshing over the rim of the cup. “Finn? As in Finn ‘he’s an asshat and I totally hate him’ Mannus?”
“I don’t hate him. We just got off on the wrong foot. Finn is fine.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Not what I meant.”
A slow, evil smile spreads over his face. “And now it’s Finn, eh?”
“That is his name,” I deadpan.
“Mmm . . .” He hands me the cup and turns to make another cappuccino for himself. “Why are you in a snit over Finn? Is he harassing you?”
“No.” I grab the phone but don’t look at the screen, so I won’t be tempted to answer. “He’s flirting. I’m flirting. And I like it.” I flop my arm in exasperation.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone be put out by good flirting.” James sips his coffee and studies me with a frown. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”
The phone dings again.
GQ: Was that too much? Or has the possibility of massaging my fine ass made you faint?
A snort escapes me.
CC: Yes. You got me. The terror was too much.
GQ: It’s okay, Chester. A lot of women can’t handle this much hotness at once.
James’s voice turns droll. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that expression on your face.”
“What expression?” I wait for Finn’s reply.
“Besotted.”
“Besotted? Have you been reading historicals again?”
“Yes. And stop trying to burn a hole in my head with your eyes. There’s nothing wrong with liking this guy. You’ve had shit luck with men. Finding one you’re excited about is a good thing. Why are you fighting this?”
Heat churns in my chest. “Because he isn’t interested in dating,” I grit out.
“Then take a ride on that hot body of his and enjoy yourself.”
The heat moves from my chest to the back of my neck. “He doesn’t want that from me, either.”
James gapes at me in confusion. Which doesn’t help my bruised and confused ego. “Not possible. I saw the way he looked at you.”
“Oh?” Ignore the flutter. The flutter is a cheap attention whore. “And how’s that?”
“Like you were the Vince Lombardi Trophy covered in honey.”
“I don’t even know what that is.”
“Super Bowl, Chessie. Best you bone up on your football knowledge.”
Cute. “However he may or may not have looked at me, Finn made it clear he didn’t want to hook up. He said he just wants to, and I quote, ‘know me.’”