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)
“Not originally,” I tell her. “You?”
“I was born and raised in California,” she says. “I moved here for the peace and quiet.”
“Didn’t we all?” I laugh.
She smiles brightly. “I needed a change, and Manhattan seemed like the place for me.”
“How’s it working out for you?” I ask because why not talk to someone when you’re stuck waiting?
“Better than I ever could have imagined. I found something here I didn’t know I was looking for.”
That piques my curiosity. “What did you find?”
She points toward the jeweler. “A fiancé.”
I glance his way again to find him with a pair of glasses perched on the edge of his nose while he peers over the frames at a bracelet in his hand. He reminds me of my grandpa, but I’m not one to rain on anyone’s parade, so if Lottie likes older men, good on her.
“He seems nice,” I say with a bright smile. “Congratulations to both of you.”
“Oh, God, no.” Her head falls back in laughter. “He’s a sweetheart, but it’s not him. I’m picking up my engagement ring. I had to get it sized down.”
Struck with embarrassment at my assumption, I let out a chuckle. “I’m sorry. I just thought…”
“That I really liked older guys?”
I nod. “Something like that.”
“My fiancé, Randall, is a bit older than me,” she confesses. “I’m talking five years, not fifty.”
Joy is radiating from her, so I tell her that, “I don’t know you, but you seem really happy.”
She locks eyes with me. “I am, Evie.”
The sound of a phone pinging sounds through the store. I wince in anticipation of Mr. Hunt telling me that he’s going to send out a search party for his prized suits and beloved watch.
That’s an exaggeration because a watch would never hold sentimental value to him. I’ve seen the beautiful wooden box with the glass lid in the walk-in closet in his bedroom that holds at least thirty high-end watches.
“That’s me,” Lottie says. “It’s Randall. He wants me to call him, so feel free to skip ahead of me.”
“Really?” I almost hug her since the customer who was with the jeweler is now bidding him farewell.
“Absolutely.” She adjusts the strap of the black leather bag she’s holding.
For late morning on a Tuesday, she’s dressed to kill.
Leather pants, a white button-down shirt tucked in just the right way, and a pair of red-soled high heels that grant her four extra inches in height all look spectacular on her.
“This will sound like it’s coming out of left field.” She shrugs a shoulder. “But, I’m all about taking a leap of faith. Would you be interested in grabbing a coffee one day soon? I don’t know a lot of people in the city…”
“Sure,” I interrupt because a person can never have too many friends, and since my current number is low, I’m all in on this. “Give me your number.”
She slowly calls it out to me.
I save it in my contact list next to her name. “I’ll text you this week.”
“Perfect.” A smile lights up her face. “Good luck with your boss.”
“Thanks,” I say in response, even though I’m going to need a hell of a lot more than luck since another phone just pinged an alert to an incoming text message, and this time, I know it’s mine.
CHAPTER FOUR
Reid
Baden points a finger directly at the phone in my hands. “Did you just text Evie ordering her to buy you new socks?”
I glance up at him. “Sure did.”
Vance takes a seat across from my desk. This is the second time today that the two of them have paid me a visit. The first time, we were interrupted when Baden was called away because of a pressing issue with a pending deal.
I told them to circle back here before noon. I want the conversation about Randall’s wedding over as soon as possible.
Vance gestures toward my phone. “I buy my own socks.”
“Why?” I ask with a straight face just to piss my friends off.
I’m well aware that neither of them orders their assistants to handle personal errands, but I see it as a timesaver. Miss Starling is so proficient at her job that she has extra time to take on tasks I don’t have time for.
It’s a win-win.
“Evie is not Norbeta,” Baden remarks.
“Your point is?” I ask.
“Norbeta saw you as a grandson,” Vance answers for him. “She booked your dentist appointments and arranged that meal delivery service for you. I happen to know she gives you a birthday card every year with a ten dollar bill in it.”
That draws a hearty bark of laughter from Baden. “No shit?”
Vance tosses him a smile. “No shit.”
I can’t refute that because it’s true. I never asked for the grandson treatment from my former executive assistant, but she supplied it, and in many ways, she still does.
I sure as hell don’t view Miss Starling in that same light, but if I need a menial task done, I’ll hand it off to her. She has my business affairs so streamlined that if I didn’t assign her errands, she’d spend hours a day sitting in her desk chair, twiddling her thumbs.