Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
We jointly inherited our late grandparents’ home, so I took the initiative to buy out Melody’s half. I have no clue if she’s aware that the amount that the estate’s lawyer sent her is more than triple what the entire house is worth.
The lawyer was happy to help me calculate what my sister’s education would cost her. I added on an extra twenty thousand to give her some breathing room.
Starting her career without any debt is what our grandparents would have wanted for Melody.
“Your gift is…” her voice trails. “Reid, I can’t even tell you.”
I wish she would since I have no idea what Miss Starling sent to my sister for her birthday today.
“I’m glad you like it,” I say because that feels appropriate.
“Like it?” she snaps. “More like love. A care package like this is exactly what I needed.”
A care package?
That wouldn’t have topped my list of things to get Melody, but judging by her reaction, Miss Starling possesses some insight into my sister that I lack.
“The monthly coffee bean subscription is amazing,” she says. “I’m so excited that fresh flowers will be delivered every two weeks, and I love the two journals, Reid. One for school, and one just for me.”
Who needs more than one journal? Or one at all?
“But it’s the stethoscope, Reid.” Her voice cracks. “It’s perfect, and you had it engraved with my name. Dr. Melody Hunt.”
“Melody,” I whisper as people brush past me on their way to a meeting, or lunch, or wherever the fuck they’re headed.
“I wish you were here so I could hug you,” she confesses. “You always give me the best hugs.”
“I do,” I admit.
Laughter fills my ear. “You’re still as arrogant as ever.”
“I always will be.”
“I know.” She sighs. “I need to get to class soon, but I wanted to call and thank you. I loved the basket all the stuff came in, and the first flower delivery arrived just a few minutes ago. You remembered that my favorite flowers are daffodils.”
I didn’t, but I wish to hell I did.
“I need to run,” she says in a rush. “Thank you again. I love you, Reid.”
“I love you, too,” I tell her. “Enjoy your birthday if you can.”
Her response is to end the call. Before I tuck the phone back into the pocket of my suit jacket, I glance at the screen. “I miss you, Melody.”
I never seem to get those words out in time, but I carry them around with me every day.
I look up to see Baden heading in my direction. He raises a hand in greeting before he curls all but his middle finger into his fist, so he’s essentially flipping me the bird.
I can’t help but chuckle as we near each other. “Right back at you.”
A full day’s work on a Friday will make anyone crave a beer or a glass of something more satisfying than water.
Apparently, that includes my assistant because I can hear her firming up plans to grab a drink after work with Cleo Flannery.
“There’s this cute bar in Greenwich Village that makes an intense peach martini, and the bartender isn’t hard on the eyes.”
That grabs my attention enough that I drop the guise of reading whatever is on my laptop screen and look toward where Miss Starling is standing next to her desk with her back facing me. Cleo is directly in front of her, but I’ve barely noticed her because I can’t keep my eyes off my assistant and the dark green dress she’s wearing.
I’m grateful Miss Starling didn’t glance up when I first spotted her when I arrived with Baden. She was on her feet then, too, and talking with a client on the phone.
I was treated to a side view of her in that dress. Keeping my gaze off the swell of her ass beneath the thin fabric wasn’t easy to do, but I somehow managed to drag my attention from her body back to Baden’s face.
“What’s the name of the bar?” she asks Cleo.
“Tin Anchor,” she responds quickly. “As soon as Reid lets you go, shoot me a text. We can meet in the lobby and head over there.”
“Will do,” Miss Starling says, and even though I can’t see her face, I know she’s smiling. I hear it in her soft voice.
“The bartender’s name is Zeke. Picture messy black hair, glasses, and tattoos for days,” Cleo sells the merits of the bartender at this bar they are apparently headed to for peach martinis.
Why anyone would waste a dime on a drink that sweet is beyond me, but a good glass of scotch or vodka isn’t everyone’s first pick either, but it sure as hell is mine.
My assistant shifts on her feet, the heel on her right shoe dragging along the floor. “I think…”
Whatever she was about to say is interrupted by the office phone ringing.