Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Um…o-kay.”
“I read up on the phenomenon once. Apparently erectile dysfunction drugs shouldn’t affect stamina, but for him, it did. I swear I don’t know how many times I stared at the ceiling, willing him to finish the fuck up.” He held up his hand and lowered his eyelashes dramatically. “I know what you’re thinking. And you’re right. I have no filter. It’s like I accidentally drank truth serum at birth. It’s a real problem every once in a while, although occasionally it works in my favor.”
He spun away and disappeared around the corner. I hurried to catch up to him, craning my neck to take in my surroundings.
The house was unreal. It had high ceilings, light wide-planked flooring and seemingly more windows than walls. Modern art and prized instruments were displayed on any free wall space or in random nooks. Guitars, violins, a stand-up bass. I was pretty sure I saw a harp too. I didn’t know anything about furniture, but nothing looked particularly comfortable. Chic black leather sofas with clean lines but no real cushioning juxtaposed with funky, bright-colored chairs. Every room looked like something out of a fancy magazine or a TV show about ridiculously beautiful people who had more money than sense. If Charlie told me we were on a movie set, I would have believed him. It was hard to imagine that anyone actually lived here.
Charlie sailed into a wide corridor surrounded by windows on three sides with his head held high and flashed an encouraging smile before pointing at the pool.
“Gray is on the roof. I’ll call him down now.”
Yep. He was nuts.
“Who is Gray?” I asked, frowning.
“Your future employer. This is his house, his collection. He can tell you all about it.”
“And how is this going to change my life?”
Charlie cocked his head and set his hands on his hips. “I don’t have time to go into that now. I’m running late for class. We’ll have to chat another time. Let me introduce you.”
I moved to the window and tapped my finger against the glass and squinted. “Is he the naked man playing guitar?”
“Where?”
I gestured toward the figure sitting with his legs crossed on the pool house roof. His head was bent over an acoustic guitar, which might have hidden swim trunks or a Speedo. I couldn’t be sure from the distance.
“Ugh. Why does he do this? It’s January, for fuck’s sake!” Charlie groused as he stomped outside and yelled to the man on the roof. “He’s here, Gray. Can you come down?” No answer. “Gray?”
“Give me a sec,” the man replied.
I crossed the pool area and glanced up but couldn’t see anything. The light was directly behind Gray, sending long shadows across his face. But he had a nice voice. Deep and raspy…and vaguely familiar.
I shaded my eyes against the glare to get a better look. It didn’t help.
“Who is this guy again, and why am I here?” I whispered as the man headed for the ladder attached to the side of the pool house.
“Gray Robertson,” Charlie said.
“And he’s your dad who needs help filing…what?”
“No, he’s my godfather, and he needs someone to organize his record collection. It’s a recent acquisition and it’s massive. He wanted me to do it, but I suggested you.”
“Why? You don’t know me.”
“I know of you, and that’s almost as good.” Charlie gave me a tight-lipped smile and lowered his voice. “Here he comes. Remember, we’re friends from the club.”
“What club?”
“Vibes,” he hissed.
I was about to respond, when the man approached, holding an acoustic guitar in one hand. He was still hidden in the shadow so I couldn’t quite make out his features, but I could tell he was tall and muscular and…not naked.
He wore blue swim trunks with a funky print and a pair of beat-up black-and-white checked Vans. And he wore them well. In fact, he seemed to be in really good shape. For someone his age, I added in my head to lessen the weirdness of admiring a potential employer. Whatever. It was true. He had a thicker build reminiscent of a football player with broad shoulders and sun-kissed skin. I fixated on the dragon tattoo that wrapped around his torso and the gorgeous Gibson guitar he held before pasting a smile on my face when he stepped into the light.
“Hi, there. I’m—holy fuck. It’s you.”
I dropped my hand and stared at the guy I’d thought about nonstop for the past two weeks. Hell, the guy I’d woken up in a cold sweat dreaming about a couple of hours ago. And though my brain was already working out logistics of probability and quickly coming to the conclusion something weird was happening here, the rest of me…including my dick, was incredibly pleased to see him again.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, sounding equally baffled.
“I don’t know,” I replied in a daze. “Um, Charlie said something about a job and—you live here? Gray. This is…odd.”