Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“This room is the freezer,” I say, leading them toward a big door in the back. “We’ve named it Hercules.”
“How cool,” Tara says as we step inside.
“Beer ferments here for roughly six-to-eight weeks, give or take. Did you want to try some of the beer right from the tank?” I ask them both.
They both shrug and look at each other until Mark speaks up and says, “Sure.”
I grab a pigtail, which is a device that lets me basically tap the ‘keg’ and pull beer right from the tank. I get some clear cups nearby, and pour all three of us a taste. “This is the Puppy Politics Pilsner,” I say, thinking about how it’s Hartford’s favorite.
“That’s really good,” Tara says, drinking the rest of her beer in her cup. “What are the names on each tank?”
I smile as I read the name, ‘Sanders.’ “They’re the Minor League baseball players from the Magnolia Beetles.”
“How interesting,” Mark says, finishing off his sample.
“I’m freezing,” Tara says, walking toward the door, and I open it for them so we can head back out into the main area.
I give them the background on the building, our family, and the way things are run.
Mark seems more than impressed, and his wife is loving everything she sees and hears. It makes me feel proud.
For the first time in a while, I feel like myself. I’m focused on work and not my best friend and her incredible body. I feel in control and ready to land this important deal.
Chapter Fifteen
Hartford
Sleeping in Paxton’s bed last night was a nightmare. A complete nightmare. Even though I was exhausted, I kept waking up every hour, practically on the hour. I felt like I couldn’t breathe because Paxton was sucking all the air out of the room. I felt like I needed to tell him the exact reason I set my house on fire.
My cheeks blush. I could never do that.
I rush down the hall at work, trying my best to go unnoticed by my boss. I zip past his door, but hear him call my name.
Ugh.
I backtrack and stand in his doorway.
“Mr. Charleston, what’s up?” I try my best to look casual. Like a woman who has her shit together, even though I don’t.
“I’d like to see your notes for your article.”
“Sure thing.” I force a smile. Keep the confidence up. Don’t let the mask of confidence slip.
“Email me them this afternoon.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, giving a firm nod.
He twists his face as he studies me. “Everything okay?”
I slump against the doorframe and tell him about the fire. He’s genuinely concerned and offers to help in any way he can.
“Why not take a few days off and you can have a few extra days on your article, Hartford. Where are you staying? I know your parents’ house is still under renovations, right?”
I nod. “I’m staying with Paxton Atwood.”
Mr. Charleston gives me a knowing smile. “Ah, yes. I know the Atwoods.” Doesn’t everyone. “You and Paxton have always been close, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I hope your place gets fixed soon. And tell your Aunt Nora I said hi.”
I crack a small smile. Mr. Charleston has had the hots for my aunt for many years but has never acted on it. I sort of wish he would, because my aunt may be on a spiritual journey, traveling the globe, but I know she’s lonely. If her texts and pics are anything to go by.
“Will do.” I leave his office and rush to my cubicle down the hall to get some work done.
At my desk, however, I can’t think about anything but Paxton. The sound of his breathing. The way he moved closer to me throughout the night. The feel of his arms around me.
Like I said, sleeping with Paxton is a nightmare.
Tonight, I’m going to make sure we put pillows between us. So it doesn’t happen again.
I force him out of my mind and work for a few hours interviewing Natalie via phone, and a few other people from the munch who wanted to be interviewed, trying my best to make sense of my notes on BDSM. After doing more internet searches, and reading articles on different fetishes, I analyze why Paxton and I aren’t having any luck with our BDSM scenes.
Maybe I just need to let loose and have a little fun. Stop overthinking.
I find my phone and send Pax a text.
What time do you get off tonight?
He replies back within seconds.
Should be done around six? Why?
I was thinking we could try another scene at your place.
You know I’m always down to help.
There’s that word again—help. Paxton’s the type of guy to help anyone. He’s the one who helps the old woman cross the road. He’ll walk down the street and see a woman with groceries in her hand and offer to carry them for her. It’s how I know he doesn’t have the same feelings I’m having for him. He’s just a friendly guy who helps.