Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
He rolled his eyes and then ordered me into the back of the black Ford Explorer.
Since I didn’t have a car and it wasn’t the weekend—so there were no friends to call to go with me, and I always preferred company—I was very pleased to have them along on my redecoration journey. Or at least I was until I found out how opinionated they both were. Pavel liked clean, modern lines. White, glass, steel, and highly structured, that was his aesthetic. Iosif, on the other hand, was more Art Deco meets Bauhaus, which wasn’t working for me either. I was after warm and inviting, and neither thought that was a good idea.
“It is office, not Starbucks,” Pavel explained. “You do not want people there all day, using our Wi-Fi.”
He was missing the point.
After lunch I sent them both back to work because I’d lost half a day arguing with them. It was easy after that. I chose area rugs, a couch, several club chairs, and new desks. The art I had to wait on because that I really had to spend time with. Plus, Dimah should be with me. He occasionally worked in the office as well, so he needed to have some input. When I called and told him, he agreed that we would go the following week.
“I have the card with no limit,” I teased him. “You want me to hold it until Monday? Do you trust me with it for that long?”
“I trust you,” he said curtly, the way he was sometimes on the phone with me. At first I didn’t understand and thought he was mad a lot of the time, but it turned out it was more his tone than anything else. If I was with him, I could see him smiling or rolling his eyes or shaking his head. Over the phone, he came off terse.
“I might order food with this tonight,” I baited him.
“Make sure you get something expensive,” he directed me.
Cackling as I hung up, I then called my favorite Mexican place and got carne asada fries, jalapeño poppers, and rolled chicken taquitos with extra guacamole. I was watching reruns of Law & Order when the delivery driver arrived, at the same time as my brother. Alex was checking on me, which was nice, and since I’d ordered way too much food, it worked out perfectly. The best part was we didn’t have to talk. He just went to my refrigerator, got himself a beer, got me a bottle of water, and flopped down beside me to feast.
“You’re so lucky you don’t get heartburn,” he told me. “I’m going to regret this.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got antacids for you, old man.”
He turned to look at me, and I spit out my water.
“You’re an ass, Trace. And you scared me the other day.”
“I know,” I said softly. “I’m sorry. You know I love you.”
He grunted, which was very much like him. Alex Brandt was not big on showing his emotions, and that was okay because I could do that for both of us.
When he ended up asleep on my couch, I took off his boots and covered him with a blanket, tucking it around him before going back to watching my show.
“I feel the same,” he mumbled, rolling over.
And I knew he did.
Originally, my agenda for Saturday night had been for Matt, Eric, and me to meet Ira and his new girlfriend, Courtney Abernathy, out at a club they would enjoy. But then Courtney had asked to bring along two girlfriends, and I had added Breckin because I was a gutless coward. So what had started out small had gotten bigger than I wanted, and that was before Alex called earlier in the evening and interrogated me about where I was going. He never questioned—he demanded. In the dictionary under overprotective there should be a picture of Agent Brandt.
The only part of my plan that remained was the place I chose. Mabon was a mixed club, which was good for our mixed group, and I’d already had a couple of mojitos by the time everyone started showing up.
“Does the bartender make a good Cosmo here?” Eric asked me.
“Yeah, really good. Order one.”
“Get me one too,” Matt chimed in.
“Yes, dear,” Eric said, leaving the high table I’d commandeered near the dance floor.
Matt leaned in close. “I love it when my husband calls me dear, even when he’s being sarcastic.”
“Yes, I know.” I chuckled.
It was nice to see a relationship that worked. After his second date with the charming and gorgeous sportscaster—which he’d been all aflutter about while we were waiting to be retrieved out of an upside-down car—Matt had decided that he was going to keep the man, and it had been smooth sailing for them from the start. My sometimes obnoxious, decidedly jaded best friend had fallen hard and fast. What was perfect was that Eric Harmon felt the same about him. I had been the best man at their wedding and had looked surprisingly good in my maroon tuxedo.