Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 157032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
“No.” He screws up his face.
“I’m taking it you are the ex?” Cameron asks.
“Ex fiancé,” Andrew snaps, annoyed.
Cameron’s eyes meet mine and I swallow the lump in my throat. “Andrew, is it alright if I come and see her tomorrow?” I ask as I turn to Andrew.
His eyes hold mine for a moment. “Tomorrow isn’t a good day.”
“When is a good day?”
He shrugs. “I’ll let you know.”
I stand and give him a hug. “Thank you, that would be great. It will be really nice to see her again.”
He holds both of my hands in his and looks at me. “You look really well, Ash.” A sad smile crosses his face.
I smile in return as my eyes flash to Cameron. He seems unimpressed with Andrew’s hands on me, but he’s keeping his mouth shut. “Thank you.” I give Andrew a peck on the cheek and with a last lingering look, he walks away through the crowd without saying goodbye to Cameron. Rude.
I sit down, rattled by what’s just happened. Marie has cancer. Fuck. She’s only young, too—maybe fifty-five at the most.
“So… he’s the ex?” Cameron smirks.
I smile as I sip my drink. “Yes.”
He rolls his lips to hide his emotions.
“And?” I smirk.
“And what?” he asks.
I raise my brows. “What’s your verdict?”
He shrugs as he sips his Scotch. “He’s not good enough for you.”
“And you are?”
He purses his lips. “Probably not.”
Our eyes lock as the chemistry swirls between us. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”
“How am I’m doing so far?”
I smile broadly as I tap my fingers on my chin. “Hmm. Rankings could be dangerous.”
He chuckles at the challenge.
“I wish I had some paper and a pen. I would do a full tally of the scores,” I add.
Cameron’s eyes dance with delight and a waitress walks past. “Excuse me, do you have a pen and a napkin we could use, please?”
“Sure.” She shuffles about in her pockets and pulls out a pencil and then grabs a napkin from a nearby table.
“Thank you.” Cameron smiles, before he then gets to work. “What are the categories?”
He starts to rule lines and I laugh.
“The categories?” I ask.
“Yes, you know. Like different categories you can judge me on. Let’s call it a performance appraisal.”
I burst out laughing and choke on my drink. “A performance appraisal?” I repeat.
Oh Lord. This man kills me.
I smile, though. I like this game. “Okay, so there’s conversation.”
He scribbles down the word conversation.
“Brain power.” I smirk.
He adds it to the list with a broad smile, he likes this game too.
“Swoon factor.”
He looks up with a frown. “Swoon factor? Is that a thing?”
I widen my eyes. “Oh my God, yes. Swoon factor is the most important one.” He cocks a sarcastic brow in question. “Well, not the most important thing,” I add.
He writes the word sex.
I narrow my eyes. “Hmm, what else?”
He frowns as he thinks.
“Romantic.” I smile.
He grimaces. “Do we have to put that one down?”
I laugh. “Yes.”
He rolls his eyes and scribbles it on the paper.
“Body,” I add.
His eyes rise to meet mine again and he licks his lips. I feel it all the way down there. I already know he’s getting a hundred out of ten for that one.
He smiles broadly and points the pen at me. “Occupation.”
He already knows he’s a ten in that category, too.
He sips his drink. “Okay, conversation…”
I bite my bottom lip. “Probably a six.”
“A six?” he gasps. “How am I only a six?”
I smirk. He’s totally not, but I have to bring him down to earth a bit.
“Fine, you’re a seven,” I concede.
He shakes his head in disgust and writes a seven next to the word conversation. “Brain power is a ten,” he tells me as he writes a ten next to the words brain power.
“You are not a ten.” I laugh.
He screws up his face. “Oh, please. Your stupid mountain and helium questions prove nothing. I’m a ten and you know it.”
I smile. He’s right, he’s probably a hundred, if I’m honest.
“Swoon factor?” he asks.
I frown as I think. “Hmm, I don’t know what you are in that category.”
He sips his drink. “What is swoon factor, anyway?”
“Oh, you know… like how dreamy someone is.”
“So how dreamy am I?”
I smile and lean over to cup his face in my hand. He looks at me attentively, and I stare at his dark hair with his day old growth on that square jaw, and his big beautiful eyes and lips. He’s the definition of swoon worthy, but I can’t let him know I think that. I narrow my eyes. “I would think maybe a six.”
His mouth drops open in fake horror and the waitress walks back over to collect our glasses. “Do you think I’m a six?” he asks her in disgust.
I burst out laughing and the poor girl looks between us.
He points the pen at me. “She thinks I’m only a six out of ten in the swoon factor category.”