Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
I hum, nodding.
Vanessa looks like she’s about to say something, then closes her mouth. “Okay, I’ll leave things in your capable hands then. Thanks again for the chance to do this. I wish someone had taught me instead of learning things the hard way—out of desperation at the eleventh hour.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
Once Vanessa leaves, I consider my next step. Sure, chances are that Daniel’s going to work late like usual. But what if I get another opportunity to get him out of here for dinner?
Just in case, I make a quick run to the restroom to freshen up. A quick fluff of my hair, a swish of mouthwash, and a makeup retouch, and I feel ready.
When I get back, I call down to Megan and Stephanie to check in. “How’d it go with Arnold today?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.
Stephanie sighs heavily. “Well, we had one last package that had to go out and he was bobbing and weaving to dodge it, heading toward the door like Richard Simmons himself was cheering him on.”
“Ugh, I’ll grab the package on my way out and run it by the store so it goes out.”
“No need, Boss. I’ve got some bobbing and weaving skills of my own, and I held him up long enough for Megan to run ahead and block the door. With the package in her hands. He wasn’t getting out of here without it. We weren’t going to let you down like that.”
I try to picture Stephanie playing guard and Megan skedaddling across the lobby, and best of all, Arnold’s pinched face. “Great job,” I tell her with a laugh. “I really appreciate that. And I’ll smooth it over with him tomorrow so we don’t have to deal with it all week.”
I’ve barely set the phone into the receiver when Daniel’s door opens and Ricky and Billy come out, closing the door behind them. “Oh, hey, Tiffany!” Billy says, pleasantly surprised even if he’s not offering to let me touch his bicep again. Stepping several steps away from me, he asks, “How’s it going?”
I wonder if Ricky said something to him or if Daniel did.
“Not bad. You guys heading out?” I inquire, trying to make it sound casual.
Nothing to see here, folks. No big deal or drama. Just a woman hoping for a bit of office delight.
Ricky nods. “Yeah, I’m meeting Miranda downstairs and going home to make dinner for the munchkins.”
It’s probably the funniest thing about Ricky. He looks, talks, and in so many ways, acts like a total badass, but he and my former boss, buttoned-down conservative Miranda Carter, are a total thing. They’re polar opposites in a lot of ways, but Ricky’s head over heels for her and her two kids.
They met here at the office, and Ricky was instantly smitten. But Miranda had been pretty gun shy after her husband passed away unexpectedly. Ricky waited patiently for her to be ready, though, and now he’s reaping the reward. Happily domesticated, though not formally so, he’s living with Miranda, her daughter, and her son. And surprisingly, he’s apparently making dinner.
Billy, though, is still very single. “I’ve got a cryotherapy appointment tonight.”
I tilt my head, curious. “What’s that?”
“Well, there’s a couple of methods,” Billy explains. “Tonight, I’m going to try the booth. Basically, you put on your skivvies, dry your skin totally, and go in a booth that’s then filled with super-cold air for about five minutes. I mean super cold, like negative 200.”
“What?” I gasp, shivering at the thought. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“It’s really good for muscle recovery,” Billy says as if it’s totally obvious, “and they say it’s good for balancing hormones in men. There’re other ways to do it, like using ice water baths, but my guy is hooking me up tonight with the chamber. He says if he can take pics, it’ll get more clients in because they’ll see an athlete using it.”
“Yeah . . . as long as they keep the pics from the waistband up,” I joke. “Sounds like a way to make your balls shrivel and your dick go turtling.” I pull my shoulders up, ducking my head. “Turtle, turtle, turtle.”
Ricky laughs while Billy covers himself protectively. “Billy Junior is fine. The cold is good for him. Well, not in the moment, but later. It’s good for blood flow.”
“I can think of other ways to get your blood flowing, but you do you.”
Billy shrugs, unconcerned with others’ judgment, and Ricky leans against Vanessa’s desk. “So, are you staying? Uncle Dan looks like he’s going to be here for a while.”
“Yeah, I’ll give it a bit longer,” I assure them. “Vanessa already warned me.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Ricky asks. He gives me a look of concern, definitely asking about more than my staying to work for a few minutes.