Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Which Ripley am I getting? Asshole Real Ripley or Fake Actor Ripley?
Ripley: Wear something warm.
Huh? My fingers fly across the keys.
Me: This winter?
Ripley: On our date, smart-ass.
Me: Why? What are we doing?
Ripley: *sighing emoji*
Me: Don’t *sigh emoji* me.
Ripley: Every time we’re together, I understand why you aren’t dating someone a little more.
I smile, glancing up to make sure my mother isn’t near. You walked right into this one, buddy.
Me: Someone a little more … what? A little more patient than you?
Ripley: *stares emoji* You know what I meant.
Me: A little funnier than you?
Ripley: *eye roll emoji*
Me: Ah, a little better at keeping up with me than you. Got it.
Ripley: Whatever you say, Peaches.
I growl. “I hate when you call me that.”
“Who?” Mom slings a bag over her shoulder and opens the door for me. “Who’s calling you names? I’ll fight them.”
My phone vibrates with another text, but I shove it inside my bag. No need to continue that conversation and ruin what’s left of my day.
“Mom, I have no doubt about that.” I laugh at the irony. “Are we done shopping now?”
“I mean, I guess.” We slide our sunglasses over our eyes and stroll down the sidewalk. “We could always grab an early dinner.”
My mind wanders back to Ripley’s text. Wear something warm. I have no idea what that means beyond the obvious, but why would I wear a jacket when it’s still warm enough for shorts? Is he trying to set me up? Does he want me to look ridiculous?
“Georgia?” Mom asks.
“What? I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said.”
Her brows lift over the edge of her glasses. “You’ve been dazey all day.”
“Not sure that dazey is a word.”
“You know what I mean. Are you getting enough rest, honey?”
“I’ve sat on the couch all alone, eating white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies every night for the past two months,” I say. Just like Ripley said I was. I grip my bag at my shoulder and squeeze it, pretending it’s his throat.
“Maybe you should take a vacation day, and we can have a girls’ day together. Brunch, mani/pedis. Maybe the spa. We could catch a comedy show or something.”
My steps slow as a ripple of annoyance snakes through me. A vacation day? That would require a job, Mom.
She doesn’t know that I’m technically working for Canoodle Pictures, and she definitely doesn’t know, and won’t know, that I’m working with a Brewer. As far as my mother knows, I’m still unemployed.
Or as far as she should know because God knows if it doesn’t affect her personally, it’s not taking up space in her head.
She stops and waits for me to catch up. “What? Why did you slow down?”
“No reason.”
She glances at my fingers. “Oh. You just had your nails done. Okay, we can do something different.”
“Yeah, let’s do something different.” I force a swallow down my throat and start walking again. This conversation is headed toward employment, and it’s better if I get ahead of it and spin it. “Did I tell you I’m working for Sutton?”
“No, you did not.” She smiles, but it falters. “What happened to your job at the … where were you working?”
“For the last time, I was laid off months ago. We’ve been over this.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I keep forgetting.”
“Well, it’s not hard to remember.” I sigh in exasperation. “Anyway, because I was laid off from my last job and needed money, I took a position with Canoodle Productions. It’ll last a few weeks, but it pays well, and the perks are great.”
“What will you be doing?”
I race to devise a simple explanation and kick myself for not thinking this through before I brought it up. I don’t want to lie to her—not that she’ll remember any of this. But Nashville can feel like a small town, and one of her friends could see me somewhere with Ripley.
I would just have to hope they don’t know who Ripley is …
“Get this,” I say. “I’m filming a pilot for a reality show.”
“That’s so exciting!”
My smile grows at her genuine response. “It is, kind of. I get to go on dates that Canoodle pays for and film it.”
“With multiple men or just one?”
“Just one.”
We get to my car, so I unlock the doors, and we climb in. Mom nearly hits me in the head with her bag as she tosses it in the back seat.
“What’s he like?” she asks as I start the engine.
“Well …”
I look over my shoulder and back out of the parking space. My face is warm when I face forward, so I blast the air-conditioning in the car to hopefully hide my flush.
“He’s handsome,” I say, using adjectives to describe Actor Ripley and not Real Ripley. “He’s … smart. Charming.” I pause as I search for a word besides fake. “He seems very loyal.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. That’s exactly what you should be doing in your life. Dating around. Having fun. Meeting men and enjoying them. I love this for you, Georgia.”