Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Visions dance uninvited through my head—Ellie lying back against my chest, me feeding her olives, her tongue grazing my fingertips…
“God, yes,” I say. Then clear my throat. “I mean, yeah. Let’s dig in.”
We get everything opened up and spread out on the blanket, and right away Ellie goes for the cheese, taking a dainty bite from a triangle of Manchego.
“Rule number one,” I say, holding back a laugh. “No nibbling. You’re a man-beast stockbroker ready to conquer the world, not a baby rabbit.”
“Men don’t chew their food before swallowing it?” She rolls her eyes. “So I should… what? Take the whole thing in my mouth? Swallow it down like a champ?”
Oh Jesus, Ellie.
I’m trying to be good. A stand-up gentleman who can spend an afternoon with a woman and not turn every comment into some kind of innuendo.
But I’m off my game, today and every day since Ellie Seyfried came back into my life with a nose for the story and an attitude that won’t quit, no matter how many challenges she faces.
“Well?” she demands.
“Don’t overthink it.” I grab a piece of cheese and toss it back in a single gulp, doing everything in my rapidly waning power to stay on task.
Ellie gives me her judgy face again. “Did you even stop for a second to enjoy the complexity of the flavors? The salty tang, the creamy texture?”
“El. When you’re shooting the shit with a bunch of filthy-rich jocks, it’s hardly the time for cheese appreciation.”
She dusts her hands together and shrugs. “Fine. The next time I find myself in a dick-measuring contest, I’ll remember to skip the cheese. What else?”
We move on to the fruit and veggies, but no matter what I offer her, she insists on being mesmerizing, captivating, and so completely not-a-man that I’m ready to scrap the lessons, encourage her to eat her office meals locked in a bathroom stall where no one can see her, and ask her out on real date.
But then I remember the mission, and the stakes, and the fact that she’s not out here today looking for a good time. She’s out here because she’s determined to finish her story, and she’s counting on me to help her.
The sooner I get that through my thick head—both of them—the better.
“I didn’t know what sandwiches you liked, so I got a bunch,” I say. “Whitefish, smoked turkey with cranberry relish, roast tomato with pesto…”
“I’d love to try the smoked turkey, if that’s okay?”
“No. It’s not okay.” I unwrap the sandwich and set it on her plate. “What you mean to say is, ‘Let me get that smoked turkey,’ or, ‘Dibs on the turkey,’ or ‘The bird is mine, asshole.’ Got it? Be assertive.”
She scoffs. “That’s not assertive. That’s devolved.”
“There’s a fine line.”
“More like a gulf.” She lifts the sandwich with two hands and takes a small bite, chewing slowly before swallowing it down. “Anyone who thinks he needs to be a bully to get ahead in life is—”
“Realistic. I’m sorry, Ellie, but it’s the way things are. If you don’t want to be that guy? Fine. But you don’t get ahead in this industry by being a decent human being.”
“You and Ryan are decent. My father, for all his faults, is still a good man.”
“I’m not saying everyone in finance is an asshole. But any time you’re dealing with that much money and power, you get bullies and corruption and enough backhanded bullshit you wonder how you can drag your ass out of bed to face it another day. If you’re going to jump into those waters, you need to be prepared.”
“I don’t buy that. It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I agree. “But it is that way.”
“Doesn’t mean it can’t change,” she insists.
I shake my head, but she’s already got me grinning again. There was a time I would’ve called Ellie’s unwavering beliefs nothing more than blind hope or sweet naiveté. But now? No way. Ellie’s not going into this with her eyes closed. She’s simply determined to make the world a better place.
How could I not be on board?
"Well…that’s why you’re doing the story, right?” I ask. “To change something?”
She nods, taking another ladylike bite of her sandwich. “First I need to make people aware that something still needs changing. That we need to work harder and give this issue more than lip service.”
“Exactly. And in order to do that, you need to play this part. Keep that in mind and don’t shoot the messenger when I give you this next bit of advice.” I reach for her hands and fold down her delicate pinkies. “You’re not brunching with the queen. And you don’t need two hands for a sandwich anyway. Just one-fist that bad boy. Take your filthy man-mitt and show that deli meat who’s boss.”
She rolls her pretty eyes but shifts the sandwich into one hand and mimics my moves.