Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
But maybe it should be.
Brooks’s Range Rover is outside my house at exactly 5 p.m. on Friday.
Keira pushes the curtain out of the way on the living room window. “Damn, that’s a hot ride. And look at him in his sunglasses and slicked back hair! Fuck, he’s even hotter than the car. How is your head not exploding right now?”
“Because I’m just a tiny bit stressed about leaving the bakery in Dustin’s and Hannah’s hands.” I fire off a text to them both with more last-minute instructions.
Got it, Hannah immediately texts back.
Keira wraps me in a hug. “They’ll be fine. I’m proud of you for sticking to your guns and asking them to cover for you. Now go enjoy your weekend. Although how could you not with that smoke show—”
“Off limits.” The handle of my suitcase clicks as I yank it upright. “You know Brooks is one thousand percent off limits.”
Keira works on the trading floor, so she knows who Brooks is, even if she doesn’t know him know him.
She also knows I’m looking to ditch my virginity.
“Honestly, that makes the whole thing even hotter.”
“He’s not into me like that anyway. Wall Street Bathroom was just saying—”
“That he’s dating someone new. I know. I read it too. I think it’s all bullshit. Why would he be going away with you if he had a girlfriend?” Keira glances out the window again. “He’s getting out of the car. I think he’s coming to the door. Oh, yeah, he’s definitely coming to the door!” She turns to me with a smile. “Godspeed, my friend. If you can resist mounting that man for an entire weekend, you must be superhuman because . . . wow. Especially with that V-card burning a hole in your pocket!”
He knocks on the door—a quick, hard rap that sends my pulse skittering. Only when I open the door and see him standing there in slacks and a blue sweater that matches his eyes, hands in his pockets, does the full force of my excitement hit me. He looks up and meets my gaze, and I smile so hard my face hurts.
“Hey, you.”
“Hi,” I reply breathlessly. “Holy shit, Brooks, this is actually happening. I don’t think I believed we could pull it off until right now.”
Brooks reaches for the Vera Bradley duffel bag I have slung over my shoulder. His fingertips brush my neck and a full-body shiver rips through me. I can smell his aftershave, a hint of cedar. My thundering pulse gathers and lands squarely between my legs.
Oh, God.
“You really think I’d blow you off?” he asks.
“I thought I’d blow myself off.”
His lips twitch as he grabs my suitcase. “I’m glad you didn’t. By the way, you know we’re only going to be gone for three days, right?”
“I pack like an asshole.” I shrug.
I was up well past midnight last night, trying on outfits for Keira to determine what I should bring. I decided to bring everything, including the condom that fell out of his coat pocket, as evidenced by my two enormous bags. “On the bright side, I have plenty of extra anything if you need it.”
“I don’t think he’s going to need it,” Keira says, and that’s when I realize she’s standing next to me staring at Brooks. “Hi. I’m—”
“Keira. I know.” He extends his hand. “I recognize you from the floor too.”
“High Yield trading.” She’s still staring as she shakes his hand. “I’m so jealous of y’alls’ trip.”
“You should be,” Brooks replies, eyes catching on mine.
My knees wobble. I decide to scoot out the door before I literally swoon. “Keira, have a great weekend. I’ll see you Monday!”
I pull the door closed behind me. Brooks and I are standing on my front porch. My pink duffel is now slung over his shoulder and my suitcase is at his side. He’s grinning down at me.
“You never even thought about asking her to go with you this weekend, did you?”
“Nope. But you should take that as a compliment.”
“Because you want me all to yourself?”
“Because she doesn’t like murder as much as we do.”
Brooks’s grin morphs into a smile. Butterflies fill my stomach. Brooks doesn’t smile often. My brother and the other guys on the crew team still complain about how grumpy he can be. But somehow, for some reason, I’m able to get him to grin like this.
It’s heady, that kind of power.
Maybe that’s why I blurt, “Is your girlfriend going to care that you’re going on vacation with someone else?”
“My girlfriend?” He laughs. “I got you hooked on Wall Street Bathroom, didn’t I? I’m begging you, take everything you read on there with a grain of salt.”
My pulse thumps. “So . . .”
“No girlfriend. C’mon.” He tilts his head toward the car. “We should get going if we want to make our dinner reservation.”
My dumb heart explodes with relief as I follow him down the porch steps to the sidewalk. “You made a reservation?”