Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 134706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
With one last wave, I get into my car and drive away.
Half an hour out on the highway, and my car begins to shudder. I turn the radio down to listen to the engine. I accelerate, and it shudders again.
What’s going on?
I slow down and continue to drive, but the car seems to have no power.
What in the world?
It begins to shudder violently, and it limps along for a while. I eventually pull the car over and turn it off.
I sit for a moment and then turn it back on. It won’t click over.
The engine ticks as it tries to start, but it just won’t. “Oh, come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.”
This car is fucking new.
I try to start it again and again.
Screw this. I get out and slam the door shut.
I take out my phone and google tow trucks.
This is the last thing I need.
Claire
I type the email.
Mr. Scott,
It was lovely meeting you
I’m interrupted by my phone ringing. The name Paul lights up the screen.
Oh no. I exhale heavily. I don’t even want to speak to him. Our date on Friday was the longest night of my life.
It’s Monday, and I know he’s calling to see if I’m going to Pilates tonight. Damn it.
Now it’s just going to be awkward. What a stupid move to date someone from my favorite Pilates class.
My mind goes to Tristan. I can’t believe that he was waiting for me to come home from my date. I smile at the thought of him at home alone with my kids.
Oh well . . . at least he survived, I guess.
I ignore the call and go back to my email. Then . . . knock, knock.
“Come in,” I call as my eyes stay glued to my computer. The door opens and closes.
“Anderson,” I hear the deep, flirty voice purr.
I look up to see Tristan Miles in all his glory. Perfectly fitting dark-navy suit, a crisp white shirt, and a navy tie. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks very much like the Miles Media heir that he is. His dark hair is messed to just-fucked perfection.
“Tristan.”
Our eyes meet, and my stomach flutters. He’s so damn gorgeous that I can’t stand it. “Hello.” He smiles.
“Hi.” I turn back to my computer, unsure what to say. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to take you out for lunch.”
I keep typing.
“Claire,” he asserts. “Look at me, please.”
I drag my eyes to meet his. The funny, flirty expression I’m used to has been replaced by one of new determination.
“Why would you want to take me out to lunch?” I ask.
He walks around to stand in front of me. He takes my hand and pulls me up out of my chair and into his arms. “Because I can’t fight this anymore. I can’t pretend that I don’t want you. Because I do.”
His body is hard and strong against mine, and as I stare up at him, I lose my ability to speak. He leans down and kisses me softly. His lips hover over mine.
“Tris,” I whisper.
“I’m sick of playing these stupid fucking games.”
“Such as?”
“Stop acting dumb, Anderson; it doesn’t suit you at all.” He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “I don’t want you to go out with that Pilates fuckwit again.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you all to myself.”
“And yet you expect me to share?”
“No. I won’t see anyone else either.”
I stare at him for a moment as I try to keep up with the conversation. “Speak English, Tristan. What are you proposing?”
“Casual monogamy.”
“Casual monogamy?” I smirk. “Is that a thing?”
He pulls me close and bumps me with his hips. “We’ll make it a thing.”
“And may I ask how?”
“Well . . . I’ll only see you, and you’ll only see me.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.” I smile against his lips as he moves closer and kisses me.
“Too bad.” Our lips crash together as he holds my face in his hands. “I don’t have a choice in the matter, so we need to do this.”
“Why don’t you have a choice?” I ask.
“Because I only want you.”
I pull into the loading zone and give Fletcher a wave. He smiles as he sees me and runs over and jumps in. He’s carrying a suit bag and is rustling around and not closing the car door. “Hi,” I say as I put my indicator on. “Quick, I’m not allowed to pull in here.”
He slams the door, and I pull back out into the traffic. “Hi,” he replies.
“Hi.” I smile over at him and rub his leg. “Look at you, my big working boy.” I glance into the back seat. “What’s in the bag?”
“Oh.” He smiles proudly. “Tristan bought me a present.”
My eyes flick over to him in surprise. “What?”
“He said I’ve been working really hard, so he wanted to reward me.”