Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I cleared my throat and managed a squeaky, “Really?”
“Yes, and she’d like a word with you.”
I pointed at my chest. “Why?”
Connor gave me the WTF look I probably deserved. “Bran isn’t in, and you’re the manager, sweet cheeks. I think she’s pondering purchasing linen in bulk. And since you’re going out there anyway…maybe you could tell Tammy the chandelier is a no go?”
I swallowed hard, wiping my suddenly clammy palms on my houndstooth trousers. “Sure. Okay.”
I took one more fortifying breath before greeting the two stunning blonds milling around the living room vignette in the showroom.
Tammy was the much younger fifth wife of a successful producer and a regular customer at BGoods. She was also kind of full of herself in her haute couture ensemble and perfectly coiffed golden locks. In comparison, Daphne McAdams looked sweet and approachable. And naturally beautiful.
“Air kisses, darling Lo.” Tammy blew me a kiss and pointed at the chandelier she desired. “Pretty please. I want it.”
“It is fabulous, isn’t it? I’ll order it for you stat and have it delivered to your house by next week.”
She sighed theatrically. “Is that the best you can do?”
“Afraid so.”
“Fine. You have my card on file. Let’s do it.” She gestured to Daphne. “I was just telling my friend about those new French linens. Sell, sell, sell while I shop, shop, shop!”
I made sure my smile was locked in place as I faced Daphne. “You have fabulous taste. Let me show you the samples.”
Daphne followed me to the far wall, patiently nodding through my thread-count spiel. I finally paused for air and asked if she had any questions.
“Yes, but not about linen.” She cocked her head curiously, pursing her red lips as if posing for a fashion shoot. “Are you Pierce’s new assistant?”
“Uh…no. I—no. I’m not. I work here. I’m the manager and I manage things…here,” I stumbled.
Daphne raised a brow and glanced away. “Good to know. I remember you from the firemen post last month and my hairdresser, who happens to be a huge Baxter fan, thought she spotted you in the background at the beach recently.”
“Hmm. I don’t do sand, so…probably not,” I chirped.
“But possibly…yes?” She waved a beautifully manicured hand dismissively and laughed. “It’s not my business. I know that, but…Pierce and I are…together…if you know what I mean.”
Her pointed stare spoke volumes. I held her gaze and nodded. “You make a lovely couple.”
She cast a Cheshire cat grin my way. “Thank you. I’ll take two sets of the ivory bedsheets, please. King-sized, please. Good talk, Lorenzo.”
Was it?
No, that was just…weird.
“Your girlfriend was in my store today.”
Pierce fixed me with a blank stare. “Who?”
“Tall, blond, beautiful, blue eyes, perfect figure…ring any bells?” I asked casually, feigning interest in the trees lining Mr. Gowan’s street from the back seat of Pierce’s luxury SUV.
He furrowed his brow as if deep in thought. “Nope. I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Interesting, because Daphne McAdams said her hairdresser noticed me in the background of some rando social media post. She put two and two together, and oh so subtly warned me to stay away from you. And you know, it kind of shook me. I haven’t been in a secret war over a man since high school when Cindy Fisher accused me of stalking the leader of the football people,” I huffed. “It was so…awkward. I’m officially resigning from my unofficial role as assistant. I love drama…until I’m the focus. No, thank you.”
“Hang on a sec. I’m still stuck on the leader of the football people.”
I gestured irritably. “You know, the guy who holds the ball and throws it to the other players.”
“You mean the quarterback.”
“Maybe? And yes, Jeremy and I exchanged hand jobs, but he was the one who stalked me.”
“Good to know,” Pierce replied in amusement. “Hey, relax, and don’t worry about Daphne. She’s harmless. I haven’t spoken to her in over a month. So no, I don’t have a girlfriend. I have a short Latino dude who wants me to play a kid game with my fake cousin.”
Oh, I liked his possessive tone even if every other word was plain wrong. “Oh, honey, let’s get a couple of things straight. Scrabble is not a kids’ game, Mr. Gowan is your cousin-in-law, and while I may be vertically challenged, I prefer the term ‘fun-sized.’ Short makes me sound…close to the ground.”
Pierce barked a laugh. “You are close to the ground.”
I flipped him off with an imperious tilt of my chin and deadpanned, “Screw you, Mr. Allen.”
He waggled his brows lasciviously. “I like that. You can call me that in bed tonight. Sir works too.”
“You’re hilarious,” I grumbled without heat while Pierce chuckled merrily at his own joke.
He sobered when Raul pulled into Mr. G’s driveway and nudged my elbow on the console. “Can we make this quick? I was serious earlier. I’m not great at games, and I don’t know if I really want to talk about the past, you know?”