Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
A small smile lifted the corners of her lips, and I wanted to run my finger over them. They were plump and always pink. Even after eating and drinking, they remained a pretty pink without the aid of lipstick or gloss.
“You don’t have to,” she said. “I’m sure they would rather talk with you.”
“But I’d rather help you,” I replied.
A blush stained her cheeks. “Okay,” she whispered, then turned her attention back to the sink.
I watched her as she began to wash the knife she’d cut the cake with. I liked the red polish on her nails. It was bold and sexy.
Damar, Jim, and Mrs. Jo moved from the kitchen to the living room. Part of me wanted to be alone with Brielle again, and another part wasn’t sure I could make the right choices if I were.
“Mrs. Jo’s furniture looks nice,” she said to me as she handed me the knife.
I took it from her. “You, too, could have nice, new furniture,” I reminded her.
She dropped her gaze back to the water. “Yeah,” was all she said.
I studied her and waited, thinking she was going to say more. She washed two more cups and handed them to me in silence.
“Have you changed your mind about the furniture?” I asked her.
She sighed then but didn’t look up at me. “No. It’s fine.”
“Her sofa is in awful shape. It even smells. She’s not going to tell you that though. She’s too proud, but the water damage did not do her any favors.” Clara’s voice came from behind us.
Brielle spun around and glared at the other woman. “It’s fine, Clara,” she snapped.
Clara rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her hip, then looked at me. “No, it isn’t. She bought it years ago at a secondhand store. The sprinklers going off put that thing over the edge of bad shape to just gross.”
My gut tightened. I watched as Brielle’s cheeks burned a bright pink, and I could tell she was embarrassed. As much as I needed this information, I also wanted Clara to shut up. She was upsetting Brielle.
“You finish the dishes,” Brielle said to her as she dried off her hands. “I need to go. Cam is supposed to call in a few minutes. I should get back to my apartment.”
Fucking Cam. He hadn’t been mentioned all evening. But Clara didn’t argue with her. She simply took her place, and Brielle glanced up at me with a small smile before leaving the kitchen.
“If you want me to, I can pick out a sofa that she’d like and make her accept it. I have a key to her apartment. You can move out that piece of shit she has now and move in the new one while she’s at work,” Clara offered.
I thought about her suggestion a moment. Brielle would be furious, but this was her best friend. She would know how to get through to Brielle.
“How long have you known her?” I asked Clara.
She paused and pressed her lips together. “Uh … let me think … it’s been eight years now,” she said. “We weren’t even legal drinking age when we became friends.”
“Did you meet in college?” I asked, wanting to know more about Brielle.
She kept surprising me. I knew so little about her, and she didn’t offer much up. It was clear that she didn’t want me to know her.
Clara shook her head. “No, I was at a religious private college. It was the only college my parents would pay for, and Brielle was at the junior college she works at now. My mom insisted I get a job. I was so angry about it, but then I met Brielle. It was the best thing my mom ever did for me.”
“You met her at work?” I asked to clarify.
Clara nodded. “Yep.”
“Where did you both work?” I asked.
“A boutique called Luxe. Brielle was the manager there, and she hired me. Candace, the owner, trusted her with everything. Candace dated the president of the junior college for a time; she’s the reason Brielle got the job there. As much as Candace loved having her as an employee, she wanted more for Brielle, and the college could give her health insurance and pay her more.”
Clara handed me the last dish in the sink and let the soapy water out, then turned to look at me as I rinsed it and dried it. When I was finished, I met her gaze and realized the flirty twinkle in her eyes was gone. She looked serious.
“Brielle is special. I don’t care who you are; I’ll hurt you if you hurt her,” Clara informed me.
“I’m almost twice her age. I don’t intend to do anything to her,” I replied, not sure if I believed my own words.
There was a good chance I would have done quite a bit to her had Cam not called last week when we were in her apartment. I’d been real close to doing more.