Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
He wasn’t a regular surgeon. Oh no. It was much worse. Much more dangerous to my erogenous zones.
Rafe Whitman was a veterinarian.
He owned a vet clinic on the Upper West Side.
When I first read that, I had to admit I had to read it again. He did not seem like the cuddly animal-loving type at all, even with that brief glimpse of affection I’d seen between him and his niece.
What wasn’t dangerous to my libido was the fact that he and I were so completely opposite to one another we were pretty much living on different planets. Which didn’t explain my sudden urge to ruffle his snooty, wealthy feathers.
“Hey, Whitman, is that you?” I abruptly yelled, surprising my companions, who visibly startled.
The man in question was currently engaged in conversation with a shorter, older man, and he glanced predatorily toward the noise. When Rafe’s scowling gaze moved over the line, I gave him a little wave and a grin so he could see who’d called out to him.
Recognition did not flicker across his irritated expression.
He turned back to his companion, ignoring me.
“Ouch.” Yvonne chuckled. “The hottie doesn’t seem interested.”
I shrugged with a cheeky grin. “Last time he saw me, I looked a little different.”
The line moved then and the girls turned toward it. I should have pulled some snacks out of my purse and forgotten Rafe.
For some reason, I couldn’t.
I so wanted to mortify or annoy this man and I didn’t understand the impulse at all. However, I went with my impulse. Smirking in his direction, I yelled louder, “Whitman!”
His shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t turn.
I put my fingers between my lips and blew a piercing whistle at him. “We spend a beautiful afternoon together and now you’re just ignoring me?”
People in line made oohing sounds, and I snort-laughed.
I had Rafe’s attention again.
He glowered in my direction but didn’t make a move toward me.
I shrugged. “The least you can do is say hi considering you got peanut butter and jelly all over my bedsheets!”
Laughter rumbled through the line and my shoulders shook with amusement as Rafe said something to his companion and then marched toward me. Wearing that thunderous scowl.
Butterflies swooped in my belly and I tried to bite my lip to contain my nervous laughter and failed. He wore a blue shirt, a fitted leather jacket, and a pair of dark suit pants, but he might as well have been naked for what it was doing to me.
“Look, I have no idea—” Rafe came to a sharp stop before me, recognition flooding his expression as his eyes darted over me. “You,” he announced accusingly.
I grinned. “Me. What are the chances? Eight million people in this city and we run into each other twice in three days.”
Rafe’s eyes were even more attractively blue than I remembered as they wandered over my long strawberry-blond hair. “Your hair is different.”
“Yeah, this is real. No wig.”
His attention strayed down my body. I might have been feeling familiar tingles everywhere his eyes touched, but then he retorted, “Yet you’re still in costume.”
Frowning, I looked down at my maxi dress. While I dressed to suit how many hours I’d have to wait in line for something, when I knew it was just a half-day kind of deal, I dressed like me. And I liked dresses and skirts and a lot of florals. I also liked braid crowns and circlets. None of which was costumey. It was cute boho. “Uh . . . no.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’re auditioning to be a fairy princess.”
I beamed at the compliment. “You’re so sweet.”
Rafe’s lips pinched together for a second before he sighed heavily and glanced along the line toward the Apple building. “Is there a reason you catcalled ridiculous nonsense at me, or was it just boredom while you wait for a nonsensical gadget that’s ruined the state of humanity?”
“Ooh, wow, there is a lot to unpack in that sentence, but to answer your question, no. I just felt like yelling at you.” I shrugged. “And I’m not waiting for me. I’m a professional line sitter.”
“You’re a what?”
“A line sitter. I work for All on the Line. We’re a group of line sitters. People pay us to wait in line for the things they want but don’t have time to wait for. Phones, sneakers, theater tickets, gourmet coffee. I’m booked all this week to wait for all of those things.”
He considered this. “People pay you to wait for stuff?”
“That’s right. The company I work for created this app and people can post the jobs to it and if we want to do the job, we book it. The app takes care of the financials.”
“And that’s your job? Along with the Disney princess stuff? This”—he gestured along the line—“is what you do for a living?”
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t just in a bad mood at his niece’s party. Maybe he was just an asshole. “I’m not a Disney princess actor. I’m a costume character actor and a line sitter. Those are my jobs.”