Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
He answered but told me to hang on while he spoke to someone else.
“Take ten, gorgeous. But don’t go outside and smoke pot this time. Last time, your eyes were only half open. We’re selling lipstick, not Cheech and Chong’s new edibles.” He came back on the line. “What’s going on, cookie? You don’t usually call during the day. I’ve been stalking your location like a fiend, and you haven’t gone anywhere but home and to the office. So I know you didn’t bang—” He halted mid-stream. “Wait. I’m a total idiot. You work together. Have you been banging the bossman at the office?”
I laughed. “Definitely not.”
“Well, you owe me some good gossip now anyway because I just looked out the window, and my model either rolls her own cigarettes or just lit the joint I told her not to smoke.” He sighed, and I heard the blinds rustling. “Aaaaand she’s holding it in, so it’s definitely not tobacco.”
“Oh no. I’m sorry for interrupting.”
“Eh, whatever. We’ll just have to sell the brand manager on hooded eyes being sexy and pretend it was intentional. What’s going on? Did you just call to chit chat?”
“I actually called to tell you about a box.”
“A box? Or your box?”
I chuckled. “A box was delivered to the office for me as I was leaving. I’m ninety-nine-percent sure it’s from Jagger.”
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t opened it yet.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I was on my way home, and then the streets were busy, and then the subway was even more packed, and what if it’s something weird?”
“Weird like a dead bird, or weird like a nine-inch vibrator that plays Backstreet Boys music?”
“I’m not sure which one is weirder of those two choices, Miles.”
“Trust me,” he said. “It’s the vibrator. To this day, I can’t hear ‘As Long as You Love Me’ without asking why I went home with Wally Wallace. He had a framed poster of Brian Littrell in his bedroom. The name alone should’ve been a hint that he was an odd duck. What kind of person has the same first and last name?”
I should’ve called Miles before I even left the building. He had a way of taking my mind off of anything. I laughed. “Hopefully Jagger has better taste than Wally. What do you think he sent me?”
“I have no idea. How big is the box?”
“I don’t know. Maybe eight inches by eight inches? It’s wrapped in plain brown paper. Probably the same kind they used to send Wally Wallace his vibrator.”
“I’m switching us to FaceTime so I can see it.” A few seconds later, my phone rang to make the switch. I answered to find Miles wearing bright red glasses.
“Red, huh? Does that mean you’re feeling sexy?”
“No, it means I sat on the black ones I wore today, and these were the only thing I could find in the car. They look terrible with my orange shirt. Now show me the box.”
I held up the package.
“Interesting. Open it.”
I laughed. “I’m a few buildings down from mine. Let me just get into my apartment.”
“Now I know how you kept your virginity all these years. You love to torture yourself.”
It wasn’t too much longer before I was finally inside my apartment. I tossed my keys and purse on the kitchen counter, walked around the island to grab scissors, and propped up the phone so Miles could watch me open the package.
As I tore into it, I laughed. “It’s going to be hysterical if I was wrong and it’s not Jagger’s handwriting on the top. Maybe we’re both anxiously awaiting office supplies that someone ordered for me.”
Inside the unmarked wrapping was a cardboard box containing two small, navy-velvet boxes. I lifted out the first and opened it. “Oh my God.”
“What is it? What is it? I can’t see.”
I turned the box to show Miles. “It’s my anklet. Jagger told me he found it at his house, but it was broken. He must’ve had it fixed.”
Miles rolled his eyes. “Boring. What’s in the other box?”
I reached in and took the other one out. My eyes widened upon finding another anklet—a diamond one.
“Nice bling,” Miles said. “Bring that closer to the camera so I can see it better.”
I held the anklet up to the phone. “Those are nice-sized stones,” he said. “My guess is five carats. I guess that’s a gift?”
“I don’t know.” I tilted the bigger box and took another look inside. On the bottom was a white piece of paper I’d missed before. “Wait. I think there’s a note.” I unfolded it and read aloud. “Thank you for a great time Saturday night. X Jagger Langston.”
I frowned. “Seriously? A fucking kiss-off gift delivered by messenger?”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way. He’s probably just sending you a gift because he likes you and wants to see you again.”