Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Thanks for the tip.” I motion toward the path. “Are you ready to head to my place?”
She looks to the right before her gaze darts to the left. She laughs softly when she spots a woman in a suit walking down the path holding the handle of a black umbrella.
“You won’t need one of those,” I say, knowing exactly why she laughed. She remembers when we first met. “You already know you’re safe with me.”
She looks back at me with a wide smile on her face. “I know I’m safe with you. The jury is still out on whether my business will be if I do decide to sell it to you.”
That’s progress but I’m not going to pounce on the opportunity to discuss what she means.
This afternoon all shop talk is off the table. Good food and champagne are the only things I’m planning on focusing on besides her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Greer
“Welcome to my home.” Holden drops his keys on a small desk in the foyer of what looks to be a lovely apartment.
From where I’m standing, it’s impeccably decorated in rich, dark tones. The chocolate brown leather furniture looks incredibly comfortable. A massive couch faces a gas fireplace surrounded by gray tiles.
The entire space speaks not only to good taste, but also to a keen understanding of how to utilize each square foot to its maximum potential.
“Why do you look confused?” he asks. “Were you expecting something else?”
I take another step forward so he can shut the door behind me. “Your house in East Hampton looks nothing like this inside.”
He glances around the room. “I had a hand in the design decisions here. My grandmother handled that in the beach house. I inherited it from her after her death.”
My heart feels like it clenches inside my chest because I’ve suffered loss, too. Celia’s death was most difficult for me, but when my grandfather on my dad’s side passed away, I was only fourteen. I cried myself to sleep for days. I still shed a tear when I remember my summers in Colorado.
He’d take me fishing and horseback riding. We’d have as many outdoor adventures as he could cram into the two weeks I got to spend with him and my grandmother.
After my folks retired, they headed west and bought a home there so my grandma could live with them.
There was a lot of debate after Olive was born about whether they should all relocate to New York, but they love the life they’ve built there. I take Olive there a few times a year to visit, and they video chat with her at least once a week.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Holden.”
His gaze catches mine briefly before it drops to the floor. “Thanks, Greer.”
He moves quickly through the space, holding tightly to the three shopping bags we picked up on our journey here. We went to a deli that Holden frequents. He’s there often enough that they know him by his first name. After that, he bought a bottle of champagne that cost more than I’d ever spent on alcohol.
“I’m going to shower quickly if that’s okay with you,” he calls over his shoulder. “I need a refresh since I’ve been wearing this suit for over a day.”
No one passing him on the street would suspect that. He smells as divinely masculine as he always does.
“Sure, of course,” I call back. “Do you want me to get started on the charcuterie board?”
“I want you to help yourself to something cool to drink from the fridge.” He gestures to the open doorway he’s about to enter. “It’s this way.”
I start in that direction, taking in everything I pass with each step. Beautiful paintings hang on the walls. A framed drawing of a garden takes the center spot. It’s obvious a child is responsible for it. I stop to read the name written in red crayon in the bottom right corner.
“Kirby,” I whisper.
“Kirby is my friend Rook’s daughter. She made that for me.”
I turn to find Holden right behind me. “How old is she?”
“Almost six,” he says. “She’s an amazing kid. We’re tap dancing partners.”
That catches me so off guard that I let out a soft laugh. “What?”
He slides one of his black wingtip shoes slightly forward on the floor. “Sometimes Kirbs needs a hand to hold when she tries new things. She asked me if I’d take her to tap dancing lessons when her dad enrolled her. Somehow, from that, I ended up next to her in the dance recital.”
There’s a flutter in my chest when I imagine him tap dancing with a little girl not much younger than my Olive. Obviously there’s a lot more to Holden Sheppard than I’ve realized.
“Before you ask, I’m damn good.” His hands drop to his hips. “Play your cards right and I may give you a private show sometime.”