Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
I scoff to myself. “If you like the moody type.”
“Oh, I do.” Heather pours while I rummage through the cupboards for anything to snack on. Once I’ve loaded up the tray, I head back to the lounge, Heather in tow. Sharp is on the couch, his laptop on his thick thighs. I come to a stop in front of him and wait for him to rip his eyes from the screen and look at me.
“Excuse me,” I say politely, smiling sweetly.
He looks across the room to the single chair, then to Heather. His face is perfectly straight, and just when I think he might refuse, be difficult, he rises from his seat. All of his muscles unfold painfully slowly, forcing me to cast my eyes away before I’m captured dribbling over it all. I catch Heather out the corner of my eye. She’s not holding back, getting her fill, her eyes delighted as Sharp strides to the chair across the room and settles again, his face in his laptop.
I fall on the couch and cough, getting my transfixed friend’s attention. She shakes her head in wonder and joins me. I can tell there are all kinds of things she wants to say to me, but Jake’s presence is preventing her. It’s probably a good thing. I place the bowl of crisps between us and clink her glass with mine.
“What are we toasting?” she asks.
Her question gives me pause, and since I don’t know, I don’t answer, instead asking a question of my own. “What color?” I grab my box of nail polishes and shove them under Heather’s nose. Let’s get the girlie shit on the road.
“Red!” She dives in and grabs a bottle. “You can do my toes for me.” Kicking her shoes off, she gets comfy and rests them on my lap
I get to work separating her toes with cotton wool pads. “I have that sketch for you. Of the dress,” I tell her.
“I already know what it looks like,” she replies, and I smile, getting to work on her toes as she goes on. “I arranged a meeting with the fabric supplier. And I’ve had an idea for a lingerie range. Oh my God, you’ll look fab in it!”
An abrupt cough makes me startle a little, and I look across to Sharp, finding him staring at me. He quickly diverts his eyes back to his laptop, though, avoiding my questioning look. Frowning on a shake of my head, I return my attention to Heather, finding her pursing her lips, assessing my bodyguard. So I knock her foot to get her attention.
She smiles at me. I ignore it.
After I’ve painted Heather’s final toe, we settle down and spend the next few hours chatting, laughing, brainstorming and getting a little tipsy. Once Dirty Dancing is finished, I jump up and drag Heather behind me, forcing her to play Patrick Swayze while I pivot and prance around her. She sings. Badly. And I laugh when she braces herself for me to dive at her. “Seriously?” I laugh.
“I’m stronger than I look.” She gives me flappy, impatient hands.
My amusement increases as I turn, catching Sharp watching us larking around. Or, at least, watching me. Is he grinning? I narrow my eyes a little, curious. Then he seems to jolt in his chair, darting his eyes away quickly.
“Come on, Baby!” Heather shouts, pulling me back to face her. My smile is back, and I run at her, watching as she shifts her feet, trying to anchor herself to the floor. We collide messily on high-pitched yelps and collapse to the couch, both laughing like idiots.
“Not that strong,” I giggle, so relaxed in the privacy of my apartment goofing around with my bestie. There’s no need to be on my guard, waiting for the flash of a camera to catch me on an off day. No controlling father to keep at bay. It’s just me and my best friend.
“I bet he could lift you up like a feather.” Heather nods at Sharp, grinning, and I’m reminded that it’s not just us. Yet the stress Jake’s caused me this past day doesn’t re-surface with the reminder that he’s here.
My palm rests on my heaving tummy as I glance over to him, seeing him shifting on the seat. I spend way longer than is acceptable admiring his gorgeous form slumped in the chair. I study his stubbled face and dark brown eyes for a moment, while they study me. His eyes are smiling.
I cock my head, just as he cocks his. He doesn’t look at all exasperated having been forced to endure me and Heather being total girls. Why? I purse my lips, thinking.
And then Sharp quickly looks away, as if he’s just realized he’s staring. I bite my lip and look at the box of nail polish sitting next to me. I grin, collecting the most garish pink I can find in the box, and rise, wandering slowly over, trying not to stagger after too much wine. I’m standing at his feet for a good few seconds before he decides to look at me. I hold the polish up. “Want me to paint your toes?”