Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
“You told her what?”
“Isn’t that what you told me? Bethany said you were really excited about it.”
Oh, God. I wonder what else she blabbed to him?
“Her daughter’s getting married,” he continues, “Apparently she’s got it in her head to wear her grandmother’s gown, but according to Mrs McGinn it’s not fit for a wedding in this century. She’s hoping you can do something with it.”
I was wrong before. I wasn’t actually speechless. This is speechless. He really believes in me.
“She says it’s a Givenchy,” he adds. “I’ve got no idea what that means, but she said it in a way that I assume means something.” He grins. It’s upsettingly handsome on him.
I am in way, way over my head.
Not with the dress.
With Warren.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I’m still processing the turn today has taken as I find the guy running the sale so I can pay for my finds. He narrows his eyes in suspicion when I just hand him a wad of cash.
“That’s it?” he asks. “No haggling? You look like a girl who likes to haggle.”
“Normally, I would,” I admit. “But I’ve just had an experience that basically shook up time and space for me. You know what that feels like?”
He blinks. “No.”
“Oh. Well, it’s disconcerting.”
“Disconcerting,” he repeats, still dubious.
“It’s just that this guy I really like is being nice to me and I’m self-aware enough to realize I have no idea how to process that.”
“Tell me everything.”
“Really?” Fan-freaking-tastic, I could really use someone to unpack this with.
“No.”
“Let me ask you this,” I say, ignoring his last response. “Would you help a woman you didn’t care about get a job? Or take her to something that she’d love, even if it was boring for you? Would you do those things if you only liked her as a friend?”
“Depends,” the man replies, rubbing his chin as he thinks. “She got an ass?”
I clearly chose the wrong person to have this conversation with. But now I’m even more confused. Warren is just supposed to be a governor-with-benefits. We’re fake-dating, and okay, that adds a tiny bit of complication to things. But still! We’re not really dating.
Are we?
The only thing I know for sure is that I’m not getting the answers from this guy.
He does, however, provide a few bags for all my purchases so that’s something at least.
I meet Warren back at the front of the house and with him is Mrs McGinn.
“I’m just thrilled to put some of Mom’s old clothes to use again,” she says, reaching out to pull me into a hug. I’m caught off guard by the sudden display of affection and end up patting her back awkwardly in return. “I thought they were beyond repair, but after Warren told me about what you do… well, it seems like I have some hope again.”
I smile. I try to match the megawatt charm that Warren’s radiating, but I have a feeling I just look like an awkward deer in the headlights.
“I’m really excited,” I tell her, which is true. I’m so excited I’m actively trying to play it cool. “I can give you details about my shop. I think I have a business card—”
“I got the information already,” Mrs McGinn says with a smile. “I’ll call you to make an appointment once I’m done with all of this.” She turns to Warren. “Thank you again for connecting me with Audrey. You’re a gem.”
He gives her a smile, and then she’s gone.
“Thank you,” I tell him once we’re back in the car. “I… I can’t really believe you did all this for me.”
“Did what?” He seems genuinely confused, which is ridiculous.
“Got me early access to an estate sale. Drove me here. Waited around while I dug through closets of old clothes. And scored me a new client.”
Warren looks at me for a long second before replying. “That’s really nothing,” he says softly.
“It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” I reply, my own voice soft as well.
And I think… I think he’s going to kiss me again. So I ruin it like the life-ruiner I am.
“What’d you buy?” I ask him, snapping my seat belt into place and breaking the tension. Because kissing him would be a terrible idea. Right?
“An old book,” Warren replies, sliding the world’s most battered old copy of Peter Pan out of a paper bag and holding it up. “My brother and I both loved this book growing up. Figured it’d make a nice birthday gift.”
“Aww, Governor, I do believe underneath that demanding surly exterior you’re secretly a big softie.”
Warren side-eyes me as he starts the car and pulls away from the house. “Do not tell anyone. Or I’ll have you arrested.”
Been there, done that, my friend.
Which reminds me, again, that I need to end this. Whatever it is. Before I ruin his life or fall in love with him or both.