Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Not if I want to keep my head intact anyway.
“I’m not sure why I’m bothering to ask, but here goes.” She draws her legs up on the chair under her, and I get a flash of thigh before her sweater covers it up again. She sighs. “Do you want to visit an art museum?”
I blink.
It’s not the museum part that surprises me. But honestly, I am surprised. I never thought she’d want to spend one extra minute with me.
“An art museum,” I say carefully.
“Yep. It’s not that far, just a few blocks. We could go for an hour or two, look at pretty paintings and cool sculptures. I’ll annoy you with the criticism I learned in college. You’ll try not to strangle me. But we’ll kill some time while we wait for Lord Fairfax to call. The egg stays safely here.”
Her teeth flash as she grins, and for a second, I’m blinded.
I’m not sure if she’s trying to be sweet or dying of nerves from asking me to indulge her.
Holy fuck.
I never appreciated how beautiful she looks when she tries. Hell, even when she doesn’t.
For a second, I gaze out the gaping window behind her. In this penthouse, New York City gleams in the spring sun below, harmless and yellow.
That lush background frames her like she’s a painting herself. Why do I need to visit a museum when there’s living art in front of me?
Her hair riots around her face in this light, and those eyes glow like gas flames, mischief and excitement and a dozen other things I can’t afford to fixate on.
I blame the caffeine. I damn near chugged that coffee and it’s making me crazy.
“Also,” she adds when I don’t say anything, “I figure your daughter wouldn’t mind a gift or three from the Big Apple, would she? I hate that all this is taking you away from her.”
There’s the shot to the heart.
“Okay, fine. Think I still have the code to your granddad’s old vault in this place. The suitcase might fit. Barely. If it does, we’ll go.” I hold up my hand. “Two hours, Nile Queen. We need to be back here by then. I’m setting a timer on my phone.”
“Don’t act so tortured!” she teases.
“If it’s a date you want, fucking fine. But you’re not leaving my side, and neither is that cursed egg. You want your field trip, that means I’m back to being your chaperone.”
She throws her head back and laughs before I’ve processed what I said.
“Man, you must be hard up. How long ago was your last date?” She throws me a sassy look and flicks a crumpled foil burrito wrapper at me. It pings off my shoulder. “Go shower, brat. We’ve got a lot of art to take in and little time.”
9
TREASURE THE MOMENT (CLEO)
This isn’t my first time visiting The Met, but coming here with Holden feels like seeing it through fresh eyes.
“Fair warning, I know jack about art,” he says as we climb the grand stairs to enter.
“You don’t need to. I’ll burn your ear off anyway.” I smile sweetly.
My heart flutters as he groans.
God, it’s easy to forget we’re pressed for time and juggling a priceless mystery artifact.
There’s something about walking into this temple to human creativity that makes me feel like anything is possible.
Yes, it’s a gorgeous building, all soaring columns and arches, but it’s also something else. The world makes more sense when I can bask in my one true love.
“Ohhh, yesss. We have to see the Egyptian display.” I grab his arm and drag him the second I see the sign. I try not to notice the hard, unrelenting muscle under my fingers.
Seeing him shirtless with his hair tossed around this morning was a whole vibe.
Definitely not the daddy vibe I need.
I knew he worked out like he’s preparing for a rabid zombie apocalypse. PopPop kept him around for a reason, after all. He made him my problem for a reason.
But after watching him stuffing his face with breakfast and still looking hot…
Holy hell.
No man should get to look like a Michelangelo sculpture, especially not when they come with such an attitude.
Not when this gruff, unsmiling brute exists to make my life complicated.
Except I’m the idiot complicating it more with my brain stuck on half-naked Holden.
Hard ridges of deadly muscle.
The lethal V pointing to his low-slung pants like an obscene arrow.
The rough dusting of dark hair on his chest, turning him pure animal. I’m not sure why but you don’t see it much with guys my age.
He’s exotic and older and so, so bad for me.
A forbidden fruit bursting with rattlesnake venom. One bite would drop me to the floor.
But it’s my muse, I think. Yes, let’s blame her.
Awful or not, Holden begs to be drawn—and maybe as a man, for once, and not a silly caricature. There’s a lot to capture, from his stacked, towering muscle to the brooding, deep shadows in his strange sad eyes.