Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Until the next shift, I’ll be counting the hours.
Yours,
Russ
Mabel covers her mouth with her hand. For several seconds neither one of us says anything. After a weighty pause, she says, “He fell in love with her through letters right here.”
I look around at the firehouse-turned-bakery, and marvel at all the stories these walls hold, the secrets this building has kept for decades. “It’s kind of surreal.”
Briefly, I picture a romance from years ago unfolding between two people who worked together, who became friends, who fought their attraction. For a moment, I wonder about…possibilities as I watch Mabel, her wide eyes, her pouty lips, her agile mind. Her big heart.
I want to reach across the table, to kiss her, to tell her that I feel the same as Russ, that I want the days to pass quickly when I’m playing hockey, when I’m out of town, when I’m heading to the arena.
I want them to pass so that I can spend more stolen moments with her.
But we made a deal, and I won’t let romance get in the way. Even though it’s getting harder to stick to that deal by the hour.
34
PICKLEBALL SLAYERS AND RSVPS
MABEL
Trevyn steps back and gives me an assessing once-over in the sleeping quarters of Afternoon Delight. AKA my new part-time residence. It’s just easier to crash here most nights. I peer at the clock—the big pickleball game starts in forty-five minutes.
I’m ready to…well, to look fantastic as I play mediocrely.
“My work here is done. You look simply fabulous,” Trevyn says with an approving nod.
“You’re only saying that because you did her eyeshadow,” Skylar points out, while giving belly rubs to Simon, her rescue pup, the world’s sassiest Dachshund mix who’s lounging on my bed, along with my girlfriends.
Trevyn whips his gaze to our redhead friend. “Like I’d leave it to Mabel to look fierce on the court.”
“Hey. I can do my own makeup.”
“Of course you can,” Trevyn says.
“He’s just better,” Skylar says impishly.
“Eyeshadow is a serious commitment,” Remy observes from her spot next to Skylar. “Eyeshadow says I have more free time than you do.”
“Eyeshadow says I took makeup training classes at Goddess,” Clementine puts in, as she kicks one black Mary Jane shoe back and forth.
Trevyn rolls his eyes. “Do not start insulting makeup tutorials, classes, or the world’s best store. That’s where I met Jean-Paul Patrick the other week,” he says with a curve of his lips.
“We know,” I say in unison with Skylar, Remy, and Clementine, since Trevyn has been gushing about his new beau.
“And they’ve been having the most fabulous dates,” Remy adds, a note of pride in her voice.
“She designed them for me,” Trevyn explains.
“We know,” I say, this time with Skylar and Clementine backing me up.
“They’re just jealous I’m going on such amazing dates,” he says to Remy, like they’re co-conspirators, and they are.
But Skylar clears her throat then waves a hand, her big diamond ring glinting in the morning sunshine. “I go on great dates too.”
“We know,” the rest of us say, then Trevyn walks in a circle around me, reviewing my ensemble one more time. I opted for a red dress with small white polka dots and a cute little pleated skirt.
“Perfy,” he declares. “You look fabulous for the fake date.”
I bristle a little, even though it is a fake date. “Good. Because I need to play the part for Ronnie Legend. For professional reasons, of course.”
“Understandable,” Remy says. “He’s powerful in the baking world.”
“Exactly. I want to look good, play well, and be believable even though it’s fake.”
But everything else between Corbin and me feels…weirdly real. Like the conversation we had the other day on the court. Our conversations are easy and natural. Our arguments are too. We seem to be able to talk openly about the past, our families, our fears, our goals. And about the love letters that make my heart glow every time we share them. Nothing between us seems fake. But of course, today is all about appearances, and I need to make sure we come across as boyfriend and girlfriend, not business partners with benefits.
“I’m not so sure it’s a fake date though,” Skylar says, reading my thoughts.
“And since you took so long to tell us about The Filthy Gentleman rendition, I think you should ’fess up now with what you’ve been up to,” Remy adds.
My chest flutters. Maybe my nipples tighten too. So annoying, being in a frequent state of almost arousal thanks to Corbin. But I’m also grateful for the chance to confess. I don’t want to keep things from my friends.
I drop to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of them. “This is a secret, so don’t tell anybody but we’ve agreed to be…business partners with benefits.”
Skylar laughs. “How sophisticated and mature.”
“It is,” I insist.
“How not risky at all,” Clementine deadpans.