Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Without an ounce of hesitation, she’s got it in her hand. “Good afternoon. Mr. Hunt’s office. How can I help you?”
I focus on my laptop screen again because I anticipate she’s about to send a call my way, and I don’t want her to catch me staring at her perfect ass.
As if on cue, she glances over her shoulder. “I’ll check on his availability, Mr. Bogner. One moment, sir.”
I don’t wait for her to ask. I motion for her to send the call through to my phone.
With a gentle nod, she does just that before she turns, walks toward me, and shuts my office door softly to give me the privacy she knows I need.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Evie
“I took your advice,” I say to Cleo as I raise my glass in the air so we can toast.
She gets the hint and raises her glass, too, so it’s within an inch of mine. “I hope to hell it was advice worth taking.”
Laughing, I lightly touch the side of my glass to hers. “It was. I put in a request for time off with Baden.”
“Smart girl.” She winks before she takes a sip of the peach flavored drink she ordered before we sat down at this small circular table at Tin Anchor.
I followed her lead and ordered the same, and although I’ve never had a martini before, I like it a lot.
I sip, too, but take my time swallowing. I want to savor this because I’m limiting myself to one alcoholic drink tonight. I have an entire day set aside for organizing tomorrow.
Although Lottie told me in a text message earlier today that she’ll cover the cost of anything I need for our whirlwind trip to Paris, I don’t want to take advantage of her generosity.
I have a few outfits that I’ll bring with me, including two little black dresses, so I’m prepared if we hit up some Paris hot spot for dinner while we’re there. Comfortable shoes, three sundresses, and the obligatory yoga pants and sweater for the travel days round out my wardrobe choices.
I have to take care of all the planning and packing over the next few days because I only requested next Friday and the following Monday off. Baden approved it within seconds after I emailed him, so I’m all set on that front.
As long as Mr. Hunt doesn’t veto it, I’ll be fine.
“What do you need the time off for?” she asks with a perked brow. “Please tell me it’s a weekend getaway with a hot guy.”
I glance at the bartender that she was praising earlier. He introduced himself as Zeke Morrow when we walked in, and even though we shared a smile, I didn’t feel a spark.
It’s not as though I expect to fall head over heels in love at first glance, but I need to feel a strong attraction to a man before I’ll agree to go out with him. I haven’t felt that with Zeke yet, but maybe if I wander over to the bar and strike up a conversation that will change.
He’s definitely gorgeous. The way the fabric of his black T-shirt is straining over his muscular chest is impossible to ignore, as are his tattooed forearms. I should know. I keep stealing looks at him.
“I am going away for a weekend. Next weekend, actually,” I say, but leave it at that.
Cleo is a good friend, and I’m worried that if I confess that I’m jetting off to Paris with a stranger, she’ll try to convince me not to.
I did the same while in bed last night after watching a rerun of a true crime show.
I had a fleeting thought that Lottie was sent to lure me to the airport. Once I’m on the Paris-bound flight, I’ll never be seen again because her accomplices are waiting for us in France, and as soon as they grab hold of me, that’s the end of my story.
I quieted all that down after a quick online search of Lottie’s name. She doesn’t have a social media presence, but I don’t either, so I didn’t view that as a red flag.
Her grandfather’s obituary did pop up. Charlotte Rushing was listed as his only grandchild in the touching tribute to him.
She is the heir to the Emmel fortune, and I’m her unlikely maid of honor.
“With a hot guy?” she asks.
In an attempt to stall, I glance toward the entrance of the bar.
Cleo’s gaze follows mine. “Is that Baden?”
I nod. “It’s him.”
Just as Cleo raises her hand to greet him, my gaze trails to the man on his heel.
“What the hell?” I mutter.
“Reid is here, too.” Cleo jumps to her feet. “We should invite them over.”
No, we should not.
I sacrifice virtually all my life to Mr. Hunt five days a week. The weekends are mine, and since it’s Friday night, I consider that the weekend.