Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
I’d known her for a year, but now that we’d crossed that line and slept together, something had changed for me. There was no more resisting temptation, and now I found myself thinking about her all the time, and crazily enough, missing her smiles. Her easy humor. And yes, even that feisty side to her personality.
One of the things I liked and appreciated about Stevie was that I always knew where I stood with her. She didn’t let things that were bothering her fester to the point that they built resentment, which had been Alyssa’s style of resolving conflict, along with giving me the cold shoulder. With Stevie, I was quickly learning that if she had an issue with something, she spoke her mind.
Her dynamic personality was stimulating and arousing…though the latter I’d had to keep in check. As much as I would have loved fixing a few of our differences of opinion with hot, hard makeup sex, that hadn’t been an option. I had Owen to think of, at least until Sunday when he’d be off to Alyssa’s for a week and I’d be alone again.
I arrived home at ten after six, which gave me time to relieve Tillie, the elderly widowed woman in the building who I’d hired to pick up Owen after school and watch him until I made it home from work.
I changed into jeans and a casual long-sleeved Henley, and while Owen sat at the kitchen counter and finished the last of his homework on his laptop, I started prepping dinner. Or rather, warming up what Marcel had made for tonight’s meal.
Even though I’d given Stevie a key card to my penthouse the day she’d moved in so she’d have access and could have arrived unannounced, she texted me that she was on her way up. A few minutes later I heard the soft ping of the elevator.
Owen glanced in that direction, his eyes lighting up when he saw Stevie since we didn’t get many guests other than Cara. He jumped off his stool and ran toward her, his excitement making me grin because I felt the same damn way.
“Stevie! Guess what?” Owen said enthusiastically. “We’re having spaghetti and garlic bread for dinner!”
“Really? That’s my favorite,” she replied, her voice animated for his benefit as they headed toward the kitchen. “It smells amazing and I’m starved. Oh, and I brought dessert. I made some brownies.”
She met my gaze and I smirked, unable to resist teasing her. “What? No chocolate mousse?”
Her face flushed adorably. I walked around the counter to greet her and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. I told myself it was because I wanted Owen to get used to seeing a little PDA between the two of us, but the truth of the matter was, I just liked touching Stevie and being close to her. It was all I could do not to pull her into my arms and kiss her like I really wanted to.
She gave me a wide-eyed, startled look. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” she murmured.
“You have no idea,” I replied, and chuckled.
She set the plate of brownies on the counter and regained her composure. “What can I do to help?”
“Everything is ready and just needs to be put on the table. While Owen and I do that, you can pour us a glass of wine,” I said, indicating the bottle of Chianti I’d set out.
She picked up the bottle and looked at the private label, then arched a brow my way at the obviously expensive wine. “This is very fancy for Chianti,” she murmured.
“Yes, so enjoy it.”
We all worked together, Owen and I taking the salad, garlic bread, and Marcel’s spaghetti bolognese to the table, and Stevie following with our wine, as well as a glass of milk for Owen.
We sat down at the dining table, plated our dishes, and after a few bites I glanced at Stevie.
“Since you had today off from the PR firm, did you do anything fun?” I asked.
She grimaced. “I wish. More studying and homework. With finals coming up next month, it’s getting intense.”
“You have homework, too?” Owen asked, his eyes wide with surprise.
“I do,” she said after taking a sip of her wine, then grinned at Owen. “Macroeconomics is the worst.”
Owen scrunched up his face. “What is macro…” The rest of the word was a garbled, indecipherable attempt at repeating the term.
Stevie laughed, the sound light and amused. “It’s sort of like math, but super boring and makes me want to take a nap.”
I chuckled. “So, what degree are you pursuing?” I asked, curious to know, well, everything I could about her.
“One in marketing,” she said, twirling her spaghetti noodles around the tines of her fork. “I’ve been interning at Dare PR for a little over a year now, and my boss has already promised me that they’ll hire me full-time once I finish school, which will enable me to quit waitressing and have one job that pays me well.”