Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
10
Olivia
“I should have changed into sneakers. These heels are killing my feet.”
“I bet.” Noah glances at my shoes, then directs his gaze ahead again. “They still look amazing on you.” He stops in front of our building as if the compliment is part of our everyday conversation. Yesterday, I would have been annoyed. Today . . . not so much. Is he growing on me?
If I were to analyze the complicated feelings he brings out in me, I think it’s that no one else in that office, even my father, would have checked on me. But Noah did. Without anything to gain, he put all my snide remarks aside and was there making sure I was okay.
I’m starting to believe I wanted to hate him to protect myself and Maxwell. It would be easier to be a mama bear in this difficult situation than to open the door and allow him to take my baby away from me.
Instead of lining my ducks up in a row to be prepared for a court battle, Noah appears to be the kind of guy I’d want Maxwell to have in his life. At least from what I’ve witnessed so far.
So instead of focusing on the negatives of the situation, maybe it’s time to acknowledge the positives.
He’s not a stereotype.
Sure, he’s drop-dead gorgeous with incredible eyes that make me want to strip off my clothes, but he’s not another jock without a brain. He’s clever and always asking questions to educate himself.
He smells so good. Do villains smell like the ocean on a sultry night? No.
Noah Westcott is an in-the-flesh, walking seduction.
His ambition goes beyond the job. He doesn’t seem to want to settle based on all he accomplished in college. I might have peeked at his file . . . judge away.
Other than my mom, he’s the only one to ask me how I’m doing. I can’t remember the last time anyone asked me. It feels like Noah is always well aware of my moods and cares.
He asks, “Your feet are already hurting. Don’t feel pressured to go to the deli.”
Standing beside him, I just realized that I feel good around him. Something about him makes me feel safe and, more importantly, seen.
I look toward the deli one block down and then back at him. First, he comes to the park just to make sure I’m okay, and now, he’s giving me an out to save my feet. His concern hits me sideways, right in the heart.
“I want to go with you. I’m a little hungry myself.” I’m not hungry in the least after the big salad I tackled at lunch, but I’ll take any reason to get to know him better.
He stares at me like he’s seeing a different person. Two lines dig between his brows as he studies my face. He does that a lot, stares at me. He did in the Hamptons as well.
Not in a creepy way, but more like he has a lot going on in that head of his. Maybe I misjudged him, pegging him as the knight in shining armor coming in to save the company. My father talked him up.
I’m getting a bitter aftertaste of jealousy.
Is that what it is?
My feelings are hurt because my dad never talked about me like that.
I nod in the direction of the deli, and we start walking together again. It’s strange feeling comfortable in his presence, but I probably shouldn’t be surprised since I was extremely comfortable with him naked once. My cheeks flame from the memories I used last night to help take the edge off that damn tingling he created inside me.
The traitor.
He knew what he was doing . . . God, did he know. So good.
“You need water?” he asks, pulling open the door for me.
“Water can’t cure me.”
“Huh?”
Oops. Didn’t mean to say that out loud. Fortunately, Antonio calls out, “Hey, Noah! What can we get you two today? You gotta try the pastrami.”
Noah chuckles. “How are you doing, Antonio?”
“I’m good. Buried elbow-deep in potato salad today. Got a catering job over at a pier later today. They’re shooting a commercial for that real estate agent on some of the benches. Bigwig. Loves the potato salad and our homemade rye bread sandwiches.”
“Sounds like a big job. Congrats.”
“Thanks.” Antonio comes to stand in front of me, leaning his arms on the high cold case. “What are you thinking today?”
I don’t want to insult the guy, so I’m not sure what to say. It smells good in here—fresh baked bread wafting through the air. I hold my hands up. “I didn’t bring my wallet. I came to keep him company.”
His arms go wide. “Noah, my man. You gonna let this pretty lady starve?”
“No. No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not starving. It’s okay.”
Noah glances down at me out of the corner of his eye. “I’m happy to buy you lunch, Liv.”