Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me people know him in America.”
“I think he dated a friend of a friend of mine.”
He hums a skeptical hum, if such a thing exists. “I doubt it. He was…a philanderer.”
I laugh at his use of the old-fashioned word. “When I say he dated my friend of a friend, I don’t think it was serious. Michelle Frankle. You know her?”
He shakes his head. “I love Madison, his wife, don’t get me wrong. But before then? They all blur into one.”
I laugh. “I’m sure. He’s a very handsome guy.”
“Like I say, he’s married, so you’re stuck with me.”
Stuck with him? “You know this isn’t a date, right? I’m one hundred percent not open to dating anyone right now.”
“I’m not into dating at the moment either,” he replies, a grin unfurling on his face. “We’re just getting coffee, walking, talking. I’m just saying, my brother’s taken.”
He’s so confident. So relaxed, it’s hard to not feel the same. I just don’t want to create expectations in him. I’m absolutely not going to date him. I’m not going to sleep with him. I’m not even going to k—
Okay, I might kiss him. But only if he…
I need to stop overthinking.
“So as you’ve been to London before, I’m presuming you don’t need a third-tier tour from the back of a Range Rover given by a guy who doesn’t know that much.”
I laugh. “That kind of tour would be perfect,” I say, feeling a little mischievous. I want to see if this guy is going to step up.
“Okay,” he says. “We’re crossing over the Euston Road right now. Not much to say other than it’s a busy road.”
I snigger. “You’ve found your calling. Forget husky mushing, this is the grand adventure you’re destined for.”
He narrows his eyes at me in mock anger. “We’re turning into Great Portland Street. On your right is the Portland Hospital.”
“Do you work there?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not a hospital doctor. I’m a GP. But there are lots of private medical facilities and doctors around here. Harley Street is just a couple of blocks over.”
“And Harley Street is…”
“A street famous for its private medicine. Doctors will be referred to as ‘a Harley Street doctor’. To the general public, the connotation is an expensive, excellent doctor or medical practice.”
“I see. That’s what it means for normies like me.” I point at myself. “But Harley Street isn’t really that big of a deal?”
He shrugs. “It just means a private doctor who’s prepared to pay the rent to be on Harley Street.” He tilts his head and smiles at me. “Normie. I’ve never heard someone referred to as a normie because they don’t have a medical background.”
I laugh. “My manager uses it when he’s talking about people who aren’t famous. It’s stupid really.”
“Ahh, so I’m the normie in this car. Not you.”
My American phone bleeps and when I pull it out, it’s Tommy. I cancel the call.
“If you need to take it,” Beau says.
I shake my head. “It’s my manager. I don’t need to take it.”
“What does a manager do?” he asks.
“Tries to run my life?” I smile at him. “I’m kidding. I’ve known Tommy since I was sixteen. He’s steered my career, helped me make decisions, negotiated with my record label, arranged brand endorsements. He does everything, really. It allows me to focus on writing and recording.”
“But you don’t want to talk to him,” Beau says.
The phone rings again and I cancel the call and put the phone on silent. “Not tonight. I’m too excited to hear about what else I need to know about Great Portland Street.”
Beau laughs and I grin, happy I’ve made him laugh.
“I’m not sure I know much about Great Portland Street. But that’s nothing to do with my ability as a London tour guide and much more about the fact that Great Portland Street doesn’t have a lot going on.” He tries to look serious.
“Oh right. Yes, I’m sure that’s the reason,” I say, shooting him a grin.
“And anyway, we’re turning onto Regent’s Street now, which is far more interesting in terms of streets anyway.”
“I am all ears. Not literally because that would be weird, but consider my breath baited.”
He smiles and we lock eyes. A surge of I-don’t-know-what trips something in my circuitry; my cheeks heat and my stomach tips. God, he’s gorgeous.
I look away first because I’m not supposed to be feeling anything. It’s just absurd. I’m in my period of mourning for a relationship that lasted almost half my life. I’m not interested in anyone else. Absolutely not.
“Regent’s Street is named after the Prince Regent—I think he turned out to be George IV. Although I wouldn’t stake my life on it.”
I wince. “I can hear future you sobbing at missing out at Tour Guide of the Year.”
He chuckles and pulls out his phone. “Yes, here it is—his father was mad, so he reigned as Prince Regent until his father finally carked it and he became George IV.”