Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“It sounds like you just need to sleep together and get it off your chests. It can be that simple.”
“Uh,” I say, laughing. “That is exactly what I don’t need to do. I basically told him that wasn’t happening, too. I said I wasn’t going to be his plaything.”
“You did?” She pauses with a stack of plates in her hands, then shakes her head. “You realize guys like him are just going to want to sleep with you more if you tell them they can’t, right?”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“He’s an elite athlete. He’s spent his whole life competing. He thrives on challenges and overcoming seemingly impossible odds. Think about it. You just issued a challenge to him, and I bet he’s already wondering how he can prove you wrong. Trust me. I’m related to Jesse freaking Prince. I think I’d know.”
There’s a concerning note of truth in what she’s saying. “Well, then I’ll just tell him next time I see him that it wasn’t a challenge. If he’s getting ideas about… that, then I’ll just tell him to…” I hesitate as the words fail me because a very specific, very vivid image of Nolan with his shirt off fills my mind.
“To go ahead and put those ideas into motion?” Caroline suggests. “Because you just spent two years grinding at culinary school and now you’re thinking about a different kind of grinding?”
I snort, nearly inhaling my coffee. “No, definitely not. I’m going to tell him to get his mind out of the gutter, because nothing like that is going to happen.” But I can’t help clutching the mug tighter and letting the warmth of it seep into my skin. It feels like there’s still a cold chill running through me from my interaction with Nolan last night, and I can’t shake it.
“Well, just keep what I said in mind. Telling Nolan to back down from a challenge is like telling the sun not to rise. It’s not in his nature. Frankly, I’d say it’s not in yours, either. But one of you is going to get their way here. That’s just a fact.”
I open my mouth to respond but close it. I’m the one who is going to get my way, and Nolan is just going to have to deal with it.
The sound of Caroline washing the dishes and the muffled conversation of guests finishing breakfast in the lobby replaces the sound of our conversation as I stare at my cup. I wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my sweater, apply some fresh chapstick for the cold day, and stand. “Thanks for the advice,” I say quickly as I pull on my jacket.
Caroline sets down the dish in her hands and turns to watch me, expression full of curiosity. “What are you up to after you see your Grams?”
“The interview. Remember?”
She nods, as if she already knew. “Think he’ll be there to handle it personally?”
“The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.”
“Oh, one last thing, Mia,” Caroline says as I’m zipping up my jacket and giving her a hug.
“Yeah?”
“I got a booking request from somebody you’re not going to love to see–”
I hold up my hand. “Just don’t tell me right now,” I say, smiling to soften abruptly cutting her off. “I’m kind of at max capacity for bad news. So, I’m just going to deal with whatever that is when I get there, okay?”
She nods. “Good luck at the interview. You’re going to do awesome. I know you deserve that job. Seriously. If they doubt it, tell them to come talk to me and I’ll straighten them out.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
I head out the side door of her bed and breakfast, feeling guilty for not being fully upfront and honest with my best friend about everything. But I also know she can’t help meddling. If she got her teeth in even a scrap of some of the potential truths buzzing around in my head, she’d be impossible to stop.
Outside, the crisp morning air hits my cheeks and I can feel them turning red. The rain last night turned into snow after all, and a fresh layer of powdery white covers everything that isn’t iced over.
I flip the scarf around my neck and shove my hands in my pockets. After two years away from Frosty Harbor, it’s almost strange being home again. I was nearly used to the bustle of city life by the time I finished culinary school and caught a flight back home.
Now it seems even more quiet here than I remember.
I pass the occasional employee of a store out salting the sidewalk or shoveling in the early morning darkness. I’m greeted with a few surprised “Hello’s” and brief questions about how long I’ve been back and things of that sort. But it’s that early hour of morning where most conversation stops at superficial and short because people have things to do and places to be.