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)
“Let’s not,” I suggest quietly.
Cleo laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “It never hurts to socialize with management after hours.”
Oh, yes, it does.
It can cause increased levels of frustration and intense feelings of regret. I should have gone home and had a frozen pizza for dinner, along with what’s left in the bottle of Bandello wine sitting in my fridge. It’s been there for weeks but can’t be that bad.
“Baden!” Cleo calls to him.
His gaze trails across the crowded space. The bar is quaint and has a charm about it that I already adore. I was planning on bringing my mom here when she’s in Manhattan again because I know she’ll love a place like this, but I’m rethinking that now.
If Mr. Hunt comes here often, I won’t be.
I never would have guessed this small bar in Greenwich Village was on his radar. I don’t know him at all outside of the office, though, so my guess as to what he likes and doesn’t like is worthless.
Baden finally finds what he’s looking for when he spots Cleo. He raises a hand in greeting as he says something over his shoulder in Reid’s direction.
Mr. Hunt is still dressed as he was at the office, but Baden has changed into jeans and a charcoal V-neck sweater. His casual look is a sharp contrast to Mr. Hunt’s polished persona, but both men are the current centers of attention as all eyes in the room are on them.
Zeke wanders over to where we are. “Do either of you need a refill?”
I look up and into his face. “I could really use a cold glass of water.”
Cleo glances back and smiles. “Why don’t you take Evie to the bar for that? She can sit over there and chat while she hydrates.”
I could hug Cleo right now because she just gave me an out from having to spend my Friday night with the man who controls almost all of my days.
“Good idea.” Zeke offers a hand to help me up.
I grab it just as Baden and Mr. Hunt reach our table.
“Cleo,” Baden greets her first. “Hey, Evie.”
Holding tightly to Zeke’s hand, I stand. Reaching for my purse with my free hand, I glance at both men. “Hi.”
“Evie’s on her way to hang out at the bar with Zeke, but I’d love some company.” Cleo points to the vacant chairs next to our table. “Do you two want to join me?”
“Sure.” Baden sits his ass down first.
Mr. Hunt’s gaze lingers on my face before it falls to my hand, which is firmly wrapped in Zeke’s. “All right.”
He settles on the chair I was just sitting on.
With any luck, by the time I’m done slowly sipping a tall glass of cold water at the bar, Mr. Hunt will have finished his drink, and be headed out of here.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Reid
“Why do you look like that?” My cousin, Donovan, points at my face.
I brush away his hand with mine. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“You appreciate when I’m honest with you, right?” he questions, ignoring my insult.
Donovan is like a brother to me.
After my folks died in a car accident, Donovan’s mom offered to take Melody and me in, but my maternal grandparents stepped up, and we moved into their house in Queens. They went above and beyond to make sure that our dad’s family was a steadfast presence in our lives.
Donovan was the one who taught me how to ride a bike in Central Park. He broke the news that the jolly red-suited guy I thought was dropping off all those gifts under the tree every December was really just my grandma in her pajamas.
He’s four years older than me, but our bond has always been strong.
“You look like you haven’t slept in days,” he remarks before taking a pull from the bottle of beer in front of him.
I started my weekend with a drink on Friday night, and I’m ending it on Sunday night in much the same way.
The major difference is that on Friday night, I kept stealing glances at Miss Starling and the bartender she couldn’t take her eyes off of. Today, my view is my cousin and the city beyond since we’re on the patio of a bistro in Tribeca.
We try to meet up at least once a month.
Donovan owns a veterinary practice. He recently got engaged and welcomed a daughter named Grace into the world. I’m all in with Vidori, so our time together is limited to a quick lunch or dinner every four weeks.
“I work too much,” I say with a chuckle. “What’s your excuse? Don’t blame it all on baby Gracie.”
He lets out a deep belly laugh that draws glances from the people seated near us. Not one of them appears to be pissed off. In fact, they’re all smiling because Donovan’s laugh does that to people.