Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 19919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
“Here you go, Julian,” I’m saying, demonstrating how to hold the trimmer steady and let it glide. “You gotta let the tool do the work. Just a firm hand and…” I’m cut off mid-lesson by the unmistakable hum of an engine approaching. I glance up just in time to see Remi’s little red car pulling to a stop at the curb, and my train of thought jumps the tracks altogether.
She steps out with practiced grace, holding a couple of brown paper bags that look suspiciously like they’re filled with something delicious and a huge to-go cup of iced tea. It’s an unexpected sight, and my cock wakes up and takes notice. This curvy little Cookie is all mine—I’m one lucky motherfucker. Her light sweater dress sways perfectly with the autumn breeze as her hair blows around her stunning heart-shaped face. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Julian freeze mid-task, his gaze unmistakably locked on her.
“Hey, Piers!” Remi’s radiant smile rivals the bright Texas sun.
I brush grass from my hands and head over to meet her, grinning like an idiot. “You brought lunch? You’re a lifesaver,” I say, maybe a bit louder than necessary, mainly to snap Julian out of whatever stupor he’s in.
“I figured you might need it.” She laughs, handing over the bags and drinks. “Plus, I get to see you for a few minutes. I’m sorry I slept through you leaving this morning.”
She has no idea how hard it was for me to leave the house without kissing her goodbye, but I didn’t want to wake her up before the sun even rose. “You were sleeping so soundly, and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up.”
“I wouldn’t mind you waking me up if I get a goodbye kiss out of it.” She wiggles her eyebrows adorably, and I can’t resist the urge to kiss her now.
I take the bags from her and place them on the tailgate of my truck, and then pull her luscious body against me. Forgetting all about my crew, I cover her soft lips with mine and devour her sweetness until we’re both breathless.
I pull back and place my forehead against hers. It’s then I notice Julian still staring at my girl with an intensity that’s impossible to miss. It’s as if she’s the most exquisite feast laid out under his nose, and he’s a man who’s forgotten what a full stomach feels like. His eyes track her every movement, widening slightly as though trying to absorb every detail.
It’s not subtle in the least. He’s practically slack-jawed, standing there with the trimmer idle in his hand, forgotten, as if Remi’s presence alone has reset his priorities. Oh, hell fucking no. The spoiled little rich kid has finally found the one thing he isn’t getting, and it’s time for him to know how things really stand.
“Julian,” I call over, deciding to address it directly. “Eyes on the job, not on my girlfriend.”
My voice is light enough not to sound too threatening, but firm enough to get the message across. Julian blinks, a shade of red creeping up his neck. “Uh, sorry, Piers. I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s Mr. Pratt until you earn the right to use my first name,” I remind him with a glare before pointing to the slightly over-grown hedges. “Keep those lines straight.” He stares me down for a few seconds and then shakes his head and turns back to the yard.
My girl instantly draws my attention back from my new employee. “I didn’t want to be rude and leave someone out, so I called your secretary to see how many men are on your crew today.” Remi points at the large takeout bag. “I brought enough lunch for everyone.” Fuck. I don’t want to share anything from her.
“That was sweet of you, Cookie. Why don’t we eat together, and then I’ll give them a break for lunch.” I forget all about the rest of the men as she smiles up at me.
“Sounds like a plan to me.” She nudges me playfully. “I’d love a little time with you if I’m not interrupting your day.”
The sun warms us from high up in the Texas sky as Remi and I perch on the tailgate of my truck. It’s parked just far enough under the shade of an old oak tree to shield us from the direct rays, but we still catch the occasional autumn breeze. The back of the truck is perfect for an impromptu picnic, and we settle in comfortably, unwrapping the brown paper bags my gorgeous little lunch fairy brought.
Sitting there, just soaking up her company, I can’t help but smile.
We dive into lunch, chatting between bites. “Gourmet tailgate lunching,” I quip, savoring a bite. “Nothing beats it and you’ve got me spoiled. I’m going to need you to do this at least once a week.”