Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
My mouth dropped open and Cassius turned his head to glare at Romeo. “You do?” God, of course he did. Because he never got his own opportunity to go, and he wanted to make sure I got mine, even if it was a short jaunt away, and then back again. I’m going to make this up to you, Romeo Casteel. “You know I love you, right?”
“Yeah,” he said, his smile soft before he elbowed Cassius. “I’ll help this big lug out with the brood because, honestly? They’re probably going to tuck their tails and run when they see him advancing on them. Go.”
Cash made some grumbling sounds but didn’t resist more than that, finally giving me a practically imperceptible tilt of his chin that I knew was his form of concession. I blew them both a kiss. Romeo took the phone from Cassius. “I’ll take care of things here,” he said. “Go follow that pull. Wherever it may lead.”
CHAPTER NINE
Gage
“Oh hello, darling. I didn’t know you were here,” my mother said as she removed her gardening gloves and tossed them on the umbrella-shaded patio table.
I glanced up at my mom from where I was sitting on the pool lounger, tapping my fingertips together. “Just getting a few laps in.” I paused for a minute as I watched the aquamarine water ripple. “Do you know anything about the color blue?”
She let out a small, confused laugh. “I wouldn’t call myself the foremost expert on the subject, but—”
“That slip of sky right above the trees there,” I said, shielding my eyes from the sun and pointing upward. “What would you call that?”
My mom gave me a semi-concerned look and then shielded her own eyes and squinted upward. “Baby blue?”
“No,” I muttered. “That’s not right.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Um, hmm. Sky blue?”
“Well, naturally. But…no.”
“Cornflower?”
“Uh-uh.”
She let out a short laugh. “Sorry, Gage. I’m out of guesses. What’s this about? And why haven’t you shaved?”
I ran my fingers over my chin. “It’s just scruff, Mom. It’s a look.” I glanced back to her and gave her an apologetic head shake. “Sorry. It’s…ah, an advertising campaign I’m working on. It’s giving the team trouble.” I picked up the glass next to me and took a sip of the whiskey I’d poured from my dad’s stash in the pool house. I didn’t drink very often, and definitely not before dinner, but damn it, that antsy feeling I’d been fighting had only increased in the last week and I felt like I might combust.
My mother eyed the drink. “Well, you’ll figure it out. You always do. But if you want to ask a person who knows more about shades of blue than I do, I’m meeting with the perfect someone in the conservatory in about ten minutes. Do you know Faith Lorenz who owns the art gallery downtown?”
“I’ve met her a time or two. Why’s she coming by?” I asked, my gaze lifting to that small portion of sky. The blue was mostly right, but also sort of not. I let out a sound of frustration and set the drink back on the side table and stood up. Damn it. Why are you obsessing about naming the blue of some woman’s eyes who you’ll never see again? What is the point other than giving yourself a migraine?
“She’s bringing an art appraiser with her who just started at the gallery last week. Faith sent out a letter to her customers who might have some art that they’d like looked at. I pulled some pieces out of the attic. I’ve no idea where they came from but—” The distant sound of the front doorbell chiming from inside interrupted my mother and she looked back at the house. “That must be them now. Stop by and say hi.”
“Maybe,” I muttered to my mother’s retreating back as she breezed toward the house. I had no intention of stopping by the conservatory. I didn’t know Faith very well and I was in no mood for small talk about dusty paintings found in our attic. Exercise hadn’t worked, neither had the whiskey. I’d take a quick shower, and then I’d head over to the club and smack some tennis balls around to let out some aggression. Maybe that would help.
What I could be occupying my mind with was what Blakely and I had discussed. But despite telling her I’d think about her proposal, my mind simply hadn’t moved in that direction since a few days before. Perhaps I was going to have to be intentional about considering the idea. Because it made sense on several fronts. And I knew how many people it would please, even if it had basically come completely out of the blue.
Blue…
I groaned as I brought my hands to my temples and massaged. Yes, I would think about Blakely’s proposal, just not this particular moment. There was no rush. The timeline we’d discussed still left plenty of time, and I thought it best to allow things to percolate naturally anyway, even if I was desperate to turn my thoughts to anything other than naming a confounding shade of blue strictly from memory.