Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 61(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 61(@300wpm)
On the days that she lets her hair down, she literally looks wild, carefree, and like a damn vixen. Today is a hair-down day, and I am about to lose my damn mind. I move in front of her, tracking how rapidly her breathing picks up. She licks her lips, her eyes looking at mine, and I smirk. I love that I affect her as much as she does me. Putting both of my knuckles on either side of her, I cage her against the desk and put my face close enough to hers for our lips to touch. I run my nose up the side of her neck, inhaling her floral scent before whispering in her ear. “You may be the one in charge, beauty, but let’s not for one second pretend we don’t both know who answers to whom.” She moans and closes her eyes before opening them. “Now, tell me.” She swallows and gives me her death glare, but we both know she loves it when I take charge.
“I, uh, I am going to take up the list my sisters have left and go try to find our sperm donor.” She told me a while ago about how she came to be and about the sisters she found out about, all of them named after the months of the year per the donor's request. They have had gatherings and such, all of them getting to know one another. It was a big deal for her; she has been much happier since meeting them.
“I see. Why didn’t you say so? Let me move some things around so both of us can be covered.”
“Yes, thanks.” She starts to walk away not paying attention to what I said. I wait a beat, knowing it will only take a second for her to figure it out. Her back straightens, and her shoulders roll back. I chuckle because I know it clicked. “No, wait. You don’t need to come with me. I am perfectly capable of...” I grip her hips and pull her into me. Every time I touch her, my body exhales. She fits against me as if she belongs right here.
“I know you are capable, but I won’t be able to think with you out there alone. Got it?”
She crosses her arms. And nods her head. “Fine.” She huffs and stomps her foot like the adorable princess she is.
“Good. So where are we going?”
Besides to bed once I get you on this trip.
CHAPTER
THREE
APRIL
THREE DAYS LATER
Turns out there’s a guy on the list right here in Boston. Rory Callahan. A quick search tells me he owns a bar somewhere in South Boston.
“I’m going over to McGinty’s after work,” I tell Ken, stopping by his desk after returning to the office from lunch and shopping with my mother. “It’s in South Boston. Have you ever heard of it?”
“Not specifically, but you’re not going alone.”
“I can handle one little Irish pub,” I say in my best Irish accent. It’s not great, but he chuckles anyway. God, I think I’m in love with my assistant.
“Not in South Boston, you can’t. Have you ever even been down there?”
“Well, no, but…”
“South Boston isn’t Beacon Hill. Trust me, baby.”
“I do trust you,” I tell him when I realize that I do. Weird. “ And when exactly did you start calling me baby?” I ask, not affronted in the slightest, but I feel like I should pretend to be.
“Right now. Get used to it, baby,” he deadpans, and I can’t help giggling.
After work, we grab a cab and take it to McGinty’s. Inside, it looks exactly like I thought it would. Dark wood floor and a bar that takes up most of one side of the room. The one thing I wasn’t expecting was for it to be packed. For a Thursday night, there are tons of people milling about. Ken pulls me closer to him and I can’t say that I mind. He leads us up to the bar, where he pulls a stool out for me. There’s just the one, so he stands beside me. Close to me. So close I can smell his cologne again. It’s doing things to me again.
“Welcome to McGinty’s. It’s ladies’ night,” the bartender says. I look around the room. I’m the only woman in the room. “Most don’t show up until later. But what can I get you?”
“I’ll have a Kilian’s. On tap if you have it. Bottle’s fine if you don’t,” I say, pretty sure my usual on-the-rocks margarita is out here.
“Sure thing. And for you?”
“A Guinness.”
“Coming right up.”
“Um… Excuse me. Do you know where I can find Rory Callahan?”
“Who’s asking?”
“I am,” I say quickly.
“And who might you be?”
“Oh,” I say, laughing. “I’m April Van Houten.”
“I paid my bill,” he says, confusing me.
“What?”
“You’re from Van Houten Foods, correct? I paid my bill.”