Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 43239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
“Okay fine then.”
She grabs the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head, revealing a black bra.
“I’ll walk around half-naked, too.”
“That’d be more than fine with me.”
“Let me call my brother and see if that’s fine with him, too.”
“You win.” I don’t even want to continue that line of conversation. “I’ll wear clothes when I come here.”
“Is there a reason why you’re leaving every night?”
“Yes. Does it bother you having the penthouse to yourself?”
The look on her face makes me regret asking that question.
“I’ll stay here, Eliza.”
“Thank you.”
I make myself a cup of coffee and retreat to the bathroom.
This time, the shower is cold as ice.
The rest of these weeks need to hurry up and fly by.
Later that night
Plop... Plop... Plop!
At this rate, Eliza might break the all-time face-plant record before her first week is over.
I’m starting to think I might need to revise my original promise to Jackson—because this shit is already ten times harder than I thought.
“What exactly are you supposed to be teaching your new friend, Mr. Jones?” Harold whispers from the living room, handing me another bag of designer heels.
“I honestly don’t know…”
PLOP!
Eliza goes down again—but this time, she doesn’t immediately spring back up.
“Yeah…” Harold pats my shoulder. “Maybe you should find tennis shoes that look like heels instead...”
“That’s what she’s wearing right now.”
“Oh…” His eyes widen slightly. He leaves the room without another word, abandoning me completely.
“You’re not going to help me up?” Eliza groans from the floor. “I could be dying.”
“I honestly think you’d still find a way to talk if you were dying…”
“I can’t feel my thighs.”
I smile and walk over, slipping my hands around her waist and lifting her with ease before carrying her to the couch.
There’s a solid knot forming on her forehead, so I head to the kitchen, grab a couple of ice packs, and gently position one just above her eyebrows.
Her eyes start to drift shut, and for a moment I consider calling my doctor—
But then she blinks them wide open.
“Can I ask you something?” she murmurs.
“No.” I shake my head. “Get some rest.”
“One question won’t make that big of a difference.”
“What is it?”
“Why are you still shirtless?” She narrows her eyes. “You promised this morning.”
“I did not promise.” I grin, grabbing the shirt from the cushion beside her. “I took it off after you spilled tea on me, remember?”
“Right... I have another question.”
“I’m out of answers.”
“If I dressed more like your ex and didn’t have a deep accent,” she continues, “do you think you’d even need to help me at all?”
I blink. I wasn’t expecting that.
“I don’t think we should use my ex as a template for anything,” I say. “And between you and me—because I’ll deny it like hell if you ever repeat this—the only thing you need to work on is your smart-ass mouth in my book. The rest of you is pretty much perfect.”
Her cheeks flush pink.
“Can you call my brother and tell him that so I can go home?”
“I said in my book.” I prop her legs onto a pillow and place the second ice pack on her left knee. “The people you need to impress are an entirely different story.”
“Why did you break up with Kristin?”
“Why are you still talking?”
“My last question. Sorry…”
“We couldn’t be real around each other,” I say. “She was trying to be someone she thought I’d want, and I was too busy proving I couldn’t survive past my usual six-month limit.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but I press a finger lightly against her lips.
“Save it for your vocabulary lessons,” I say quietly. “You’ll need it…”
FIFTEEN
ELIZA
Saturday Morning
Iwake up homesick.
Not the cute kind where you sigh wistfully and scroll through old photos until the feeling passes—but the kind that aches in your chest and make you long for everything that’s not here.
I miss the quiet, the fresh air, the way the morning sun filters through the fields in Tennessee.
New York’s air smells like someone sprayed perfume over a sewer, and every building seems hell-bent on blocking out daylight like it’s a crime.
Craving something familiar, I video call Janey.
“Heyyyyy girl heyyyy!” She answers on the second ring, her face filling the screen.
“How are the lessons going? Any steamy moments? Kissing? Heavy petting? Tell me everything.”
“I called to check on the farm,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You go first.”
“I’ve got twenty minutes before I have to shovel fresh cow shit into the compost pile, so please spare me.” She shows me her view. “Give me something juicy.”
“I can’t stand this man.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “I’m ready to come home.”
“It hasn’t even been a full week yet.”
“You’d be surprised how long days here with him can feel.”
She blinks.
“He honestly thinks the sun rises and sets on his ass, and that it’s his divine mission to control me while breaking world records for assholery—on command.”