Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
West looks like I’ve just pushed him off a cliff, but Mr. Lemon tilts his head back and laughs. “There’s nobody more fearless than people who can’t have dairy,” he says. “My wife can’t tolerate cheese but she’s always the first to suggest pizza.”
I lean in conspiratorially. “Make it good enough that they’re willing to pay the price, am I right?”
“That’s the idea,” Pat says with a nod.
The two men chat for a few minutes before Pat wanders off and Liam turns to me, an amused smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t think a conversation about lactose intolerance could be charming, but I stand corrected.”
My cheeks are still warm from his praise when he introduces me to Danielle Xiu, the congressional aide and avid Barbie collector. As luck would have it, my former boss Barb kept old issues of Fashion Doll Quarterly in the back office of the Pick-It-Up, which I, of course, devoured. Dani and I talk vintage gown re-creations, the brilliance of the Barbie movie, and BarbieCon.
I note the wedding ring on her finger. “Where is your Ken? Or your Barbie?”
She laughs. “My Ken is back home with our kids. He’s a litigator, so he’s thrilled to get some downtime playing Dad this week.”
I wrap my arms around West’s torso. “My Ken’s job this week is Beach.”
“And Drinks,” he says, taking our empty glasses with a charming smile and leaving to get us refills.
The night goes on like this, easy and surprisingly fun, and it’s only after West and I say good night to Nicola Ricci, a vitamin corporation CEO and new emu farmer (thank you to the r/Emu subreddit for all of the amazing intel) that I realize how chatty I’ve been, while West played the part of bemused bystander.
When we’re finally alone again, West puts his hand on my lower back and leads me to the edge of the party. “Okay,” I start, “before you say it, I know I’ve been talking too much.” It doesn’t seem fair that I should get the giant, warm, sexy hand on my back when my entire job here was to smile and be polite, not chitchat and stand out.
West frowns. “Are you kidding? Everyone was completely charmed. Where did you learn all that anyway? Like emus having double eyelids and all that shit about Barbie legs?”
I shrug. “I read a lot. My old job at the Pick-It-Up stocked every magazine ever. And Reddit is both a trash fire and an invaluable resource.”
“I’m impressed, Green. You’re doing amazing.”
These words make my ocean-dwelling ovaries incinerate, but then a shadow looms over the sunshine: this is easy for me. Too easy. The realization makes me feel icky inside, because I suddenly can’t imagine my dad at all, let alone him laughing easily with these people, some of whom have never personally delivered their vehicle to a mechanic. Maybe I’m more like my mother than I thought.
But I don’t have more time to spiral, because the sound of clinking glasses rises in the room all around us. Over near the bar, Charlie and Kellan lean in, coming together in a kiss that is so perfect I wonder if she learned it in finishing school.
When they pull away, they do an adorable “gazing into each other’s eyes” move before Charlie gasps, clapping. In her tiny micro minidress, she attempts to jog-shuffle in her spiked heels—so much for no stilettos on the beach—over to the microphone. “Alex reminded me earlier today that our sweet Liam has been married to Anna for five years this August!”
A knowing smile pulls at Alex’s lips, and he lifts his glass. Fucking Alex.
Bouncing excitedly, Charlie waves to where we stand in the back, and the entire room turns to face us, seventy-five bleached white grins forming a spotlight. I am sure even without the benefit of a mirror in front of us that both West and I look like we have just emerged from a cave to bright sun. “We are so happy to have them with us!” Charlie cries. “Congratulations, you two!”
The clinking starts up again, but this time, I realize we’re the ones who are meant to be kissing.
“What do we do?” I say through my clenched-teeth smile.
“I think,” he says back through his own tight grin, “that we kiss.”
My jaw is cramping. I’m fake-smiling so hard. “Okay, great!”
“Yeah?” he asks, and his own smile is now straightening, his expression turning to determined focus. A big hand comes up, cupping my jaw, and I manage to get out a breathy “yeah” as my knees turn to jelly. His eyes drop to my mouth, and I hold my breath as he leans in.
I realize, just before we touch, that he’s about to erase everything I know about the act of kissing.
The first contact is just a brush of his lips over mine, the briefest sweep. I’m going to be devastated if that’s all I get, but then I hear the quietest moan escape his throat as he leans in again, pressing his soft, strong mouth to mine and taking my top lip between his, sucking gently before he turns his attention to my bottom one. With a smile forming against my kiss, West tilts his head and takes me with a heat I could not have predicted but which makes me feel like I’m falling backward into clouds.