Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“Hi, Playboy,” I coo.
“Hi, Party Girl with a Hyphen,” he says. “How are you, beautiful?”
Wow, he sounds incredibly chipper. “I’m great. I’m sitting in a taxi on my way home. How are you?”
“Well, I’m bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and feeling fine as wine, thank you for asking. The world is my oyster.”
“Wow. You sound extremely perky today.”
“I am. Jonas and I told my uncle we’re leaving Faraday & Sons the other night, and yesterday we mapped out the transition with the board of directors. I’m so excited, I’m bouncing off the walls.”
“Congratulations. Does this mean you can finally tell me about what you and Jonas are planning?”
“Yeah, but I’d rather tell you in person in between kissing every inch of your naked body. It’s too awesome to explain in a brief phone call.” He makes a celebratory grunt. “I’m so pumped.”
Holy shitballs. He’s acting like that “kissing-every-inch-of-your-naked-body” comment was a total throwaway, but it took my breath away. “I’m so excited for you, Josh,” I breathe.
“Thanks. Can’t wait to tell you about it when I see you, which by the way, is the reason I wanted to talk to you. When are you gonna come see me?”
“As soon as possible,” I say, though the words catch in my throat. Josh and I were together in Las Vegas for only a week, after all, though it certainly felt a whole lot longer than that, and, now that I’m back in Seattle and returning to my real life, I feel unsure of where things stand between us. “So, hey, thank you so much for flying Hannah and me first class, by the way—we geeked out the whole time. It was awesome, but totally unnecessary.”
“Kat, please, you can’t fly coach.” He makes a sound like he’s shuddering.
I laugh, but I’m not entirely sure he’s kidding.
“It was my first time, actually,” I say. “Wow, the seats are so cushy and the flight attendants are so damned nice.”
“That was your first time out of steerage? Oh, the humanity.”
“Yeah. Hannah’s too. She kept asking for extra peanuts just to see if they’d bring ’em.”
“Well, get used to the idea of unlimited peanuts, babe—I see lots and lots of peanuts in your future.”
My heart stops. What does that mean? Is he saying that, since I’m about to become a mill-i-on-aire, I’ll be able to book first-class tickets any time I please on my own—or is he implying he’ll regularly be flying me first class... to visit him?
“Oh, hey, guess what?” Josh says. “Henn has some ‘work’ in Seattle next week. What a coincidence, huh?”
“Yeah, Hannah told me. They’ve already got dinner plans. We’re invited to join, if we can.”
“Next week? Nope. If I get my way, you’ll be here in L.A. next week, acting like my paid whore.” He snickers.
Holy hell. Josh is positively on fire right now. This is as relaxed and easygoing as he’s ever been with me.
“Speaking of which,” Josh continues, “I’ve been thinking about how to pull off all your mini-pornos, and I think I’m gonna hit ’em out of the park.”
I giggle. On our last night in Vegas, after coming back from our night-on-the-town with Henn and Hannah, and after having some freaking awesome sex, Josh and I lay in bed together and I told him chapter and verse about each and every one of the mini-pornos that regularly play inside my head. The man was so enthusiastic he even pulled out his laptop and started taking notes.
“Some of that shit’s gonna be like putting on a fucking Broadway show,” Josh continues, chuckling, “but I’m up for the challenge.”
I cup my hand over my mouth to keep my voice from traveling to my driver.
“You don’t have to enact every fantasy I told you about—” I begin, but Josh cuts me off.
“Oh, I’m doin’ em all, PG—and I’m doing ’em right. Fuck yeah, I am. I’ve got a few things I gotta pound out at work for the next week or so,” Josh continues, “but then I’m all yours, baby. So what’s your calendar look like for a visit some time next week?”
“Um, I dunno,” I say, heat rising in my cheeks. This conversation is overwhelming me in the best possible way. “I’ll need to look at what’s waiting for me on the work calendar and let you know.”
“Cool. Don’t keep me hanging though, or I’m gonna go all Jonas Faraday on your ass.” He laughs to himself. “Oh my fucking God. I can’t wait to see you and get started on our little fantasy-fulfillment exchange. It’s gonna be epic.” He lowers his voice. “Kat, I can’t stop thinking about—” He abruptly stops. There’s a ridiculously long pause. “It.”
It? There’s a long pause. That felt like a weird choice of words.
“I can’t stop thinking about... it, either,” I say slowly, but I’m not completely sure what we’re talking about. Are we saying we can’t stop thinking about our upcoming fantasy-fulfillment exchange? Is that the “it”?