Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
That’s Bettencourt, who’s materialized by Amy’s side. Perhaps that’s another thing billionaires do. Materialize.
“That would be great,” she says. “We can get a shot of the tour group outside the hotel.” The Book Besties lose their minds at the suggestion.
As we walk, Hazel explains more to the group again. “I just love when Francesca dances the tango at the gala with the knife in her garter,” she says, unapologetic in her apology.
I love that she loves that scene.
When we make it back to the train—held by Bettencourt, as promised—I put my language lessons to use, ordering drinks in the bar car for the crew.
“Ooh, la la,” Hazel says when I return with her favorite—a chardonnay.
We toast, and soon the conversation returns to the Book Besties and their daily lives. Jackie and her husband are raising two teens, including a high school senior with autism, Alecia’s wife just returned to work after beating breast cancer, and Maria’s going back to college at age forty-five to finish her degree.
We drink and talk about life and all its complications until Jackie says, with a wink in her dark eyes, “So, Noah and Lacey?”
Alecia smacks the table playfully, admonishing her friend. “You are like a dog with a bone, girl. Let it go. I want my ribeye steak reward,” she says, determined to win the bet with her friends over the love interest in our book.
But I want something too.
I want to work with Hazel again. Badly.
I turn to my friend—or friend again I should say. Even though I’ve had a few glasses, I won’t give wine that much power. This is the thought I’ve been marinating all day.
The guy I’ve been thinking of all day.
The guy we left on the operating table more than a year ago. Lacey’s guy.
When our gazes lock, Hazel’s wearing her familiar, public grin.
The one that says she’ll protect me from the will you finish your book question. Like she protected me when I walked away. When I left her holding the bag on the contract. That was such a shitty thing to do. And I hope—I truly hope—she’ll take me back.
I’m glad we learned that secret code long ago so I can use it now. I give a shrug of my right shoulder then a lopsided grin. A gesture that’s always meant I’m all in if you are.
I hold my breath, desperate for her yes, but it comes in no time. Hazel shrieks. “You mean it?”
“I do.”
All day, all the good memories have knocked on the front of my mind. I’ve second guessed myself. I’ve wondered. I’ve worried. But I can’t deny this ache in my creative heart—I’ve missed working with her so much.
“Let’s do it,” she says, bursting with excitement.
I expect Alecia to whoop the loudest since she’ll get her steak, but they’re all wonderfully deafening. Her friends holler and cheer with her, and the other readers join in too, even Steven, and Uma the Redheaded College Girl, along with her crew.
“Can we put this on our social?” Jackie asks.
It seems fitting that the Book Besties should break the news after their role in bringing us back together. “Works for me if it’s good for Hazel,” I say.
My train roommate can’t seem to contain her excitement. “It’s very good for me. You’re like fairy godmothers.”
Jackie squeals. “Matchmakers, hon. We’re matchmakers,” Jackie says, then grabs her phone, presumably to make the news official.
Over at her table, Amy’s cheering while Bettencourt watches her intently, a smile tilting his mouth.
“It’s a train trip reunion,” she says, then holds up a glass of champagne. Bettencourt clinks his glass with hers, then clears his throat. “To the magic of trains bringing people together.”
It’s heady, this midnight celebration as we cross the border into France. Heady and dizzy and scary. Maybe I’ve jumped too soon. Or maybe I didn’t jump soon enough.
Either way, there’s no turning back, and I’m good with that.
I’m only nervous about one thing—how Hazel will react to what I have to tell her. The role I played in the end of her and Max.
27
SEX MISCHIEF
Axel
But my thing will have to wait. At our compartment, Hazel grabs my shirt collar before the door has time to clang shut.
She yanks me to her in the dark and covers my lips with hers.
Hazel is a woman who knows her mind.
That is such a turn-on.
She’s rough and hungry. A tiger who wants her prey—me. I happily let her devour my face. Yes, my face. She’s kissing me hard, ruthlessly, and she’s not stopping at my lips. She’s kissing along my jaw, running her cheek against my scruff. “Mmm, stubble,” she murmurs, then she reaches my ear and nips on the lobe.
“Do that again and I’ll be bending you over the bed in no time,” I say in a rough growl.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” she taunts, then pulls back and looks at me, those green eyes twinkling with utter mischief.