Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Instant scowl. “What did you say to him?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
He growled, snatched the phone from my hand, and was immediately in defuse mode. “No, no, everything’s fine. It was just a misunder—running? Who said we were running?”
I scoffed, and Benji scowled at me.
“This kind of behavior is not designed to bring on good karma,” Benji reminded me.
My shrug told him I didn’t give a crap.
“No,” Owen said quickly. “You don’t need to send Shaw down here.”
I couldn’t have stifled the cackle if he’d paid me.
My night was made at that point. Owen and Benji interfered and cockblocked me, so they got to deal with overly concerned, overly protective partners.
Karma my ass.
TWO
It was probably because he was retired military that being at the airport for a flight leaving at five thirty on a Tuesday morning did not concern my boss in the least. For me, that was stupid early, and it didn’t help that I’d overpacked and was now steering a small rolling suitcase through the arrival terminal at the Bangor International Airport and carrying my garment bag and had my backpack slung over my right shoulder. I always wanted to pack like Brann used to, everything in a single carry-on, but I was fairly certain that came from being a Navy SEAL. They taught them how to Tetris all their stuff. I couldn’t do it. Plus, I was not about to origami my Prada tuxedo to fit into a duffel. No, thank you. But still, I looked like I was in vacation mode, not bodyguard mode, and that was doing nothing for my overall mood. One wanted to look intimidating when they were the hired muscle. Though technically, I wasn’t supposed to look scary, but instead like everyone else. Ready for a wonderful time at the resort looking out onto Penobscot Bay.
Of course, the train had gone off the rails already. Mr. Lennox had not been able to leave when he wanted from where he was shooting his new film, Emerald Dreams, in Turks and Caicos, and would now not arrive until late afternoon or the evening. Possibly, that would end up being fine, as I might still be stuck at the airport.
Alone at a wedding… I had nightmares that started this way.
After walking up and down outside the arrival gates, asking people where the shuttles for the Castine Harbor Inn should be and finding no shuttles at all, I finally called the resort and was told that their vans collected everyone at the departure gates instead of the arrival ones as there was more room there. The woman was sorry that the wrong information had been printed on the wedding itinerary, but the correct information had in fact been conveyed to the bride more than once.
“Really,” she insisted. “She was told many, many times.”
I chuckled. “Have people been yelling at you?”
“Oh,” she said with a whimper. “You have no idea.”
“No worries,” I told her. “I’ll see ya soon.”
“And what was your name, sir?”
“Cooper Davis.”
“Thank you, Mr. Davis.”
I made my way to the departure gates, and there I saw a man holding up a sign that said: Phillips/Walder wedding. Moving toward the sign, I put on my scarf and trench coat, thinking it was better to risk being too hot in the shuttle than being cold. I hated having to do anything but sit once I was in tight spaces.
Crossing the terminal quickly, my thought was to join the others milling about, but I stopped halfway there when I saw him. Not the actor Ashford Lennox, but my ex, Damien Morrow, standing with a stunning, statuesque blonde woman. I felt a twinge in my gut, like I was getting the stomach flu or something, and had to get my bearings and take a breath.
What was he doing here? We never accidentally ran into one another in Chicago, but now, here, out of the blue, there he was? It was like the beginning of a terrible rom-com, except there was no chance of either romance or comedy where we were concerned. Our break had been quick and final, with soul-searching on my end and absolute icy disregard on his. I’d been a convenience for him, nothing more. And it wasn’t like I was still thinking about it, just hard not to be reminded when faced with one’s past.
Of course, because this was how things worked for me lately, he looked just as good as he had when I was leaving his condo for the last time—all blond, blue-eyed model perfection. It was what had drawn me in, as well as everyone else. His looks combined with his charm made him lethal in the art of seduction. When I was walking out, he assured me I was overreacting. I told him to go to hell, and he’d shrugged. It was the shrug that had nearly killed me, made me slump against the wall of the elevator on the way down. After a year together, my leaving was that insignificant to him. I was, without a doubt, a terrible judge of lover material. Friends I could pick, but that, clearly, was the extent of my power.