Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Who said the woman at the gallery was with me? Maybe we were just there at the same time.”
“Oh? In that case, what did you buy at the gallery?”
“Nothing. I was there with that woman.”
June’s laughter makes me feel warm everywhere, like a third beer filling my veins.
“She’s my boss. Or my boss’s wife. I’m not sure who’s in charge. It’s a new job.”
“What’s the job?”
“I’m a muse.”
“A what?”
“A muse. It’s—”
“I know what a muse is. But I didn’t know it’s a job.”
Fantastic. June is not only pretty; she’s smart, too.
“Rich people,” I grumble. “They can’t do anything themselves. I don’t know if she’s depressed or suicidal or what, but I’m supposed to inspire her to live. That should be her husband’s job. A friend’s. A sibling’s. Literally anyone but some strange guy who she’s never met.”
“Wow. That’s so sad. Sounds like she needs a therapist.”
“I hope that’s not what they mean by a muse,” I say. “My form of therapy would be to tell her to get over whatever she thinks is so awful. Must be real rough living in a mansion. Never having to worry about money. Spending every day reading books and shopping for art. Touch some grass, lady. There are people who have real problems, and your husband hired you a muse. Fucking ridiculous.”
“Okay, then. Tell me how you really feel,” June says.
“Do you disagree?”
“I don’t know them, so I can’t judge them based on their wealth,” she says.
“You can. It will stay between us.”
“So if you were wealthy, would it be fair for people to judge you because of it?” she asks.
“Absolutely, because I’d probably be an entitled dick.”
She giggles. “As opposed to …”
“Hey, you don’t even know me, yet.”
“True.”
“Where are you? We should hang out,” I say.
“It’s late, Flynn.”
“Damn. Is twenty-six the new forty? Late? It’s a little after eight.”
“I’m trying to be polite.”
“Polite? Because you don’t want to hang out with me? Then why did you call—text. Why did you text?”
“I thought I’d give you a chance to sweep me off my feet.”
“Are you suggesting I’ve failed at doing that?”
“Well, how would you rate yourself?”
“You haven’t ended the call, so I’d say I’m killing it.”
“I should go, Flynn.”
A surge of panic hits me like it did when she walked out of the gallery and I froze. “You’re beautiful.”
She doesn’t reply right away. Why did I say that? I’m sure she knows she’s beautiful. How could she not? I close my eyes and press the heel of my hand to my forehead.
“I’m listening,” she says.
I open my eyes and mentally scramble for something else. What’s the follow-up to telling her she’s beautiful?
“I’m listening too. You should say thank you or compliment me back.” Words fly out of my mouth before getting proper permission from my brain. If she doesn’t appreciate sarcasm, I’m fucked.
“You’re tall,” she says.
“Thank you. I try my best.”
June chuckles, and I sit up tall.
“You have a great smile,” I say.
“Thank you. You take good group photos,” she replies.
I can’t help the shit-eating grin on my face. “We’re hitting it off. I think we should take this conversation to dinner.”
“I already ate.”
“But did you have dessert?”
After a few seconds, she says, “I did not.”
“Let’s meet at Sebastian Joe’s in twenty minutes.”
“I don’t know …” The hesitation in her voice stirs the panic in my chest. Why does she have this effect on me?
“Well, I don’t know either, June.” I stand and kick around the shopping bags, looking for something to impress her. “That’s why we should have ice cream and find out.”
“Find out what?” She laughs.
“Whatever it is you need to know. Meet me and I promise you’ll have your answer before ten.” I pull a shirt out of the bag and smell it out of habit.
New shirts smell pretty damn good.
“Nothing weird?” she asks.
“I’ll get Oreo or peanut butter. Nothing weird like cinnamon or mocha.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know it’s not. Just walk out the door. Don’t overthink it.” I pull the phone away from my ear and shrug off my shirt.
“Fine,” she says.
Again, that unavoidable grin steals my face.
Chapter Four
June
“Where are you going?” my roommate, Ally, asks as I slide into the bathroom while she shaves her legs on the edge of the bathtub.
“Going for ice cream.”
She glances up from her leg as I apply lip gloss. “You have a date?”
“No.” I rub my lips together, eyeing her reflection in the mirror. “It’s just ice cream.”
“With a guy?”
I grin.
“Juju, you can’t drop that on me and then leave. Who is he? How did you meet? Is he cute? Duh. Of course, he’s cute. Is he sexy? Rich? A basketball player?”
I giggle, capping my lip gloss. “I met him at the gallery when I stopped on the tour to use the restroom.”
“Oh, so he’s into art. That means he’s rich.” She flips her sandy blond hair over her shoulder and bats her fake eyelashes at me.