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)
The walk light illuminates, and she looks both ways (twice) before crossing the street. When we reach the gallery, I open the door for her like a gentleman. She grins, and I try not to, but then she playfully pokes my stomach, and it tickles, so I can’t help myself.
“Mrs. Rawlings, how nice to see you,” a woman with short, wiry blond hair says while walking toward us. She’s dressed in a one-piece outfit which looks like a tuxedo, but with shorts. And her shiny black heels are so pointy she could use them as ice picks.
“Good afternoon, Savvy. You look beautiful.”
Savvy runs her hands down her outfit. “Aw, thank you.”
“This is Flynn. He’s a gift from Rupert. My muse.”
I pull my shoulders back like a dumbass who’s proud of being a muse for some rich woman, even though I have no clue what it means. I’m a triple D, and it’s biting me in the butt.
Dyslexic.
Delinquent.
Dropout.
“That’s quite the gift. I’m Savvy.” The woman chuckles while introducing herself, hand offered to me.
I shake it. “Flynn.”
“Can I get either of you something to drink? Wine?” She focuses on Callie.
“Wine would be lovely.”
“I’m good,” I say when Savvy shifts her attention to me.
Callie elbows me, and I squint at her without saying what the fuck, but I think it.
“I don’t like wine.” I shrug. “And I’m not thirsty.”
Callie touches her fingers to her chin and then moves her hand forward and downward. What is she doing?
I sigh and blow a kiss back to her because I don’t know if she’s roleplaying in front of Savvy, pretending we’re lovers, or what. But I don’t want to go to jail, so I sit, shake, roll over, and blow kisses. Whatever these entitled weirdos need, I’ll do it.
Savvy giggles, cupping a hand over her mouth to regain her composure. “That’s sign language for ‘thank you,’” she says.
Shit …
“You’re welcome.” I say with a shrug. But I don’t know why she’s thanking me.
Callie clears her throat and points at Savvy, who presses her lips together to hide her grin. I’m glad they’re so amused by me. I fucking hate rich people.
“I’ll get your wine,” Savvy says, turning on her heel.
Callie clasps her hands behind her and stares at me.
“What?”
“When someone offers you something, whether you accept it or not, you say thank you. Yes, thank you. Or no, thank you. But always, thank you.”
I frown. “Sorry.”
She brings her fingers to her lips. This time she actually kisses them and dramatically blows in my direction.
Fuck you sits on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it back down because she delivers her kiss with a smirk, and surely people who smirk aren’t suicidal. And that’s my job, right? To make sure she doesn’t off herself.
“Here you go.” Savvy returns, handing Mrs. Rawlings a glass of white wine.
Is it free? Is this what happens when you’re wealthy? Water coolers with tiny paper glasses turn into wine in stemware?
“Sam will bring your piece out in a few minutes, and then we’ll get it wrapped up for you,” Savvy says.
“Thank you.” Mrs. Rawlings sips her wine and inspects the art on display.
The front door chimes, and a young woman steps inside, removing her bike helmet. Her long, dark hair hangs over one shoulder in a messy braid. She lights up when she sees Savvy.
“Hey, June.” Savvy perches on the stool behind the counter. “Restroom break?”
“Yep,” she says as her gaze snags on me, but I immediately look away while standing a little straighter and running a hand through my thick hair, which could use a trim.
“How many do you have?” Savvy asks.
“Uh, six,” June says, setting her helmet on the counter. On the back of her shirt is a tire logo with Billy's Bike Tours.
I sneak a glance at her, and she quickly looks away.
When she disappears around the corner, Savvy eyes me for a second with a grin.
June returns and puts on her helmet. “Thanks,” she says, shifting her attention to me so quickly I can’t avert my gaze before she catches me ogling her. And then it just sticks. She doesn’t look away, and neither do I.
I’m not sure what’s happening. I can actually feel my heart in my chest. She makes me sweat.
“Didn’t know Minneapolis had bike tours,” I say as if I need to take one.
This girl’s smile is so damn sexy. I definitely need a bike tour.
“Well, now you do,” she says, before biting her bottom lip.
Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings have me by the balls. I’m not the guy who says stupid shit and blows kisses to women old enough to be my mom. And I’m not this awkward with women. But I’m out of my element, standing among expensive, ugly art while having my composure rattled even more by a random girl in biking shorts, wearing a mischievous smile as if I’m the butt of a joke. Don’t ask me why I find it so sexy. I just do.