Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
She doesn’t smile in appreciation of my joke. Instead she still looks confused. “As if you were catching a bus?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never caught a bus.”
“Because you don’t like buses?”
“They don’t make it into the top ten of things I like most in the world.”
“Hmmm.” She presses her finger to her lips as she thinks and I can’t tear my eyes away. If feels like her lips are pressed against my dick and her sounds are vibrating in my balls. “You have a list?” she asks.
“Don’t you?”
“No, but I could put one together in a rush.”
“I like to be prepared,” I say around my grin.
“I like you,” she says, her mouth curling into a smile.
“I like you too. You want to join me on my run?” I take a sip of my tequila, wondering if she’s interested in taking this back-and-forth somewhere she’s not on the clock.
“Absolutely not.” Disappointment lurches in my chest. She’s fun and I need more of that in my life. “But if you’re around when I finish my shift, I’ll have sex with you.”
I half swallow, half laugh and end up yelping like a dog.
Slick, Vincent. Very slick.
“That is, if you’re back from your run,” she adds. “I have a couple of pictures to upload to the Crompton Instagram account, which I manage, and I have no other plans. You want dessert?” She offers me the menu in her hand and then snaps it away from me. “No. Don’t want you sluggish. Another drink?”
I don’t formally accept Kate’s offer of sex, but she’s confident enough not to need my confirmation. I order another tequila, thankful for the Brit’s small measures, and divide my attention between my phone and watching Kate. She seems to know a lot of the customers. She’s either worked here a long time or they have a lot of repeat customers or both. I do the mental calculations of how much a place like this makes. It can’t be a lot. I looked into buying a chain of pubs in Norfolk once, but I couldn’t make the numbers stack up, even though I liked the idea.
Kate glances over at my table every now and then, and maybe it’s me, but heat seems to be growing between us with every passing minute.
My phone buzzes and I field a message from my assistant about timeframes for my team getting to Crompton. I turn my phone facedown on the table just as I remember Kate mentioning an Instagram page.
I bring up the app. I had my assistant create a profile for me a while ago. It’s entirely anonymous, of course, and has no followers, but it allows me to search for Kate’s Crompton estate page. It takes me by surprise. The house and gardens look beautiful. Not that they’re not beautiful, but Kate’s photographs seem to capture them at their most beautiful. Maybe it’s the time of day—the light she captures. Or perhaps it’s the way she manages to show the exceptional while artfully excluding the peeling paint and cracked walls. I’m pretty sure she’s not a professional photographer, but it’s hard to tell.
My phone rings in my hand and I dart out to take the call. The US are still at their desks and I want to make sure my assistant is lining up a team in the UK to come and see Crompton House over the next couple of days. I want to be in a position to act quickly if the opportunity is there. I’m a risk taker, but I’m not a gambler.
As soon as I step back into the pub, I lock eyes with Kate. I retake my seat, and next time there’s a break between tables, she comes over.
“I thought you left.”
“No.”
“Where did you go?” she asks.
I laugh. “No” would be enough for most people in my life. They wouldn’t expect further explanation. That’s not true of my family. And apparently it’s not true of Kate. “I stepped out to take a call. The US is still working.”
“And you work in the US?”
“A lot of my work is US-based, yes.”
“Right,” she says. “You didn’t leave.”
“And pass up sex with you? Absolutely not.”
It’s her turn to laugh. “You don’t need to hang around here if you have other things to do. Your run or whatever. I can come up to your room when I’m done.”
I’ve abandoned the idea of a run. I can see the house at night another time, and besides—I think a far more enjoyable workout might be waiting for me at the end of Kate’s shift. “I like watching you.” I’ve tracked her all around the restaurant this evening. She’s relaxed, like this place is home for her. And she greets everyone like they’re an old friend, even when some people are clearly new to her. She’s tactile, pressing her hand against her customers’ upper arms when they talk, or patting them on the shoulder when they leave.