Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Says the twenty-two-year-old who has all the time in the world. I’m not getting any younger, Evan.”
I snorted. “You’re talking as if you’re ancient. You’re only thirty-five, Reid.”
“Men have ticking biological clocks, too, you know,” he teased, surprising me.
“No, they don’t,” I disagreed, laughing. “You have nothing to worry about in that regard. But maybe if you had fewer rules, you’d meet the right woman.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “What rules?”
“Patrick said you have rules,” I explained. “No dating women who’ll nag about your schedule, no dating women who don’t understand the store comes first, and no dating women younger than twenty-eight.” I tried not to emphasize the last.
“Your brother needs to keep his mouth shut,” Reid muttered.
“Are they true?”
He shrugged uncomfortably. “Aye. And, clearly, the reason I’m still alone. I need to let them go. Except for the last.” He refused to meet my gaze. “The last is a firm rule.”
Disappointment burned in my gut along with the whisky. “Why?”
Still not meeting my gaze, he shrugged again. “I’ve dated younger women. They’re too immature.” He cut me a look. “I was born older than my years, Evan. I don’t want to be with a woman who is disappointed I’m not interested in clubbing or going to music festivals or taking selfies together for social media.”
Feeling irritated by his assumptions, I griped, “Not all twenty-somethings are into clubbing and music festivals and social media.”
He raised a querulous eyebrow.
“They’re not. Some of us are more mature than that.”
“Maybe you are,” he conceded. “But I haven’t met many others who are. Plus, I’m not screwing around. Contrary to what people think, I’m looking for someone to start a family with. Women my age are ready for that.” He sighed, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not that I can seem to slow down enough for it to matter.”
“You’ll find her,” I promised him. It’s me, you fool! “One day you’ll find her, Reid.”
He opened his eyes, looking at me through a low-lidded gaze. “You think so?”
His secret longing for a wife and family just made my infatuation increase to ovary exploding levels. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the blush stain my cheeks.
All I had to do was slowly but surely prove to my brother’s best friend that I was Mrs. Right. That I was a mature twenty-two-year-old who wanted the same things as him.
“I know so.” The words came out hoarse with emotion.
Something in my voice caused Reid to stiffen and as our eyes held I felt this thick tension fall between us. I wanted to dive on him. Crush my mouth against his and show him that there was a woman out there who wanted him for his loyalty, his determination, his secret sweetness, and his understanding of what was truly important in life. I wanted to show him that for the right woman, he would loosen the reins on the store to be with her.
To be with me.
Something flared in his eyes before his expression shut down. Then he leaned forward and patted my knee. “You’re a sweet kid, Evan. Thanks.” He stood up abruptly and strolled across the office to the coat stand in the corner where his suit jacket hung. Shrugging into it, he said, “You get home okay?”
Deflated, and a little embarrassed, I stood up too at the subtle rejection and hint for me to leave. “Oh, of course. I’ll see you next week.”
“Have a good weekend.” He held the door open but wouldn’t meet my gaze.
“Yeah, you too,” I muttered, hurrying to collect my things so I could get the hell out of there.
“You’re a sweet kid, Evan.”
Ugh.
Shot to the damn heart.
However, hours later, after the mortification left me, determination returned.
I didn’t imagine that little moment on the couch between us.
And Reid’s response of, “You’re a sweet kid, Evan,” felt a little contrived. Like he was trying to put distance between us.
Maybe I was a nutter and completely wrong.
But I had hope that I wasn’t.
And I had time to prove to Reid that I was a woman. A mature woman.
The right woman.
Reid
Mid-November
I was distracted.
Evan was distracting me.
And the level of distraction was irritating.
We crowded around the small conference room table. Kerry, my events co-ordinator, my sales and marketing team, and George, my general manager.
At my side, of course, was Evan, my personal assistant.
That alone made Evan off limits.
The fact that she was my best friend’s wee sister and thirteen years my junior made her forbidden.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
It was the forbidden thing, I told myself.
That’s what was making me hot.
Not the way her skirt molded to an arse that was surprisingly round and luscious. Or the way her curvy hips accentuated how tiny her waist was. I could probably span it with my hands. I’d watched her sashay ahead of me into the conference room, mesmerized by the exaggerated feminine shape of her. I’d heard Evan complain to her mum about her hips and thighs as if they were a bad thing.