Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
He turns with a smile and stretches his arms over his head. I let my gaze slide to the T-shirt riding up just far enough to show an inch of his abs. Heat fills my cheeks when I make eye contact with him, and I know he saw me.
“Does Mr. Morrison know you’re leaving?” He stands.
“Yes. I told him we were going to lunch together.”
Murphy freezes.
I spin on my heel, grinning when he can’t see me. “What? It’s just a sandwich. Get your head out of the gutter. I’m a taken woman.”
“Did Coach Callen put a ring on your finger?”
I continue toward the back door. “I’m going to change my clothes. I told Mr. Morrison that I had a few errands to run. Want me to drive? I’m parked on the street where there are no cameras.” I glance back. “Not that it matters, because Blair would never be jealous of you taking her dad’s homemaker to lunch. Right?”
“This is sounding less like lunch and more like a full-on affair. Should I be worried that you’re trying to steal your boss’s daughter’s fiancé?”
“Stop. You’re setting me up for a good joke that you won’t find funny.”
He follows me out the door after I change my shoes. “I fear you underestimate my sense of humor.”
I laugh without stopping or waiting for him. I don’t know why he’s following me to the guesthouse instead of waiting for me to change my clothes.
“Say it,” he says.
“It’s cruel.” I open the sliding door.
“But funny?”
I glance back at him. “It won’t be funny to you. Just cruel.”
“Well, try it.” He tucks his hands into his back cargo shorts pockets.
“Why would I need to steal my boss’s daughter’s fiancé when he’ll most likely be put on the sale rack in a few months?”
Murphy slowly lifts his eyebrows. “Are you implying she’ll call off the wedding and I’ll be a bargain? Marked down like something that no one wants?”
I bite my lips together.
“Damn, Alice. That’s harsh.”
“I’m—”
He cuts me off with a hearty laugh as he fists a hand at his mouth. “But funny.”
I squint, restraining my grin while I assess him for a few seconds. Is it really okay to laugh? “I’m sure you’re the one,” I say.
His laughter simmers. “Nothing’s a guarantee. But you’re not really living if you don’t take chances. Right?”
After a few seconds, I nod and whisper, “Yeah.”
“Change your clothes. I’ll wait out here.”
I slide the door shut and kick off my shoes before heading into the bedroom to change into denim shorts and a fitted T-shirt. Then I untie my hair and comb it with my fingers. And for whatever reason, I check my makeup and dab a bit of perfume onto my wrists and neck before meeting him outside.
He gives me a quick once-over, but I don’t stare at him, silently calling him out like he did to me. Instead, I relish the way my skin tingles from nothing more than one look from him. The most tragic thing about us (and there are a lot) is this awful timing.
As we pull away from the curb onto the street, he rolls down his window. “Do you like biking?”
“Um, sure. Why?”
“I might take a ride later. You could join me.”
“I don’t have a bike.”
“You can ride Vera’s. She won’t mind.”
I laugh. “It’s probably a five-thousand-dollar bike. What if I crash it?”
“It’s probably closer to a ten-thousand-dollar bike. If you crash it, she’ll fire you and hire a new homemaker. Oh, wait. No, she won’t, because you are literally the only person who would take this job.”
I smirk, shooting him a quick sidelong glance.
“Someday, all this money, the kind that buys ten-thousand-dollar bikes, will belong to you and Blair. Has that sunk in?” I ask.
“It won’t feel like mine. I’m signing a prenup.”
“Oh, does that bother you?”
“The prenup? No.” He shrugs. “I’m a minimalist. And when I met Blair, I had no idea her family had this kind of money. She was living in a dinky apartment in San Francisco. She didn’t have a car, took public transportation, and shopped at secondhand stores for most of her clothes. When her art began to sell, she bought a nice car and splurged on some shoes and handbags, but it was all purchased with her own money. I respected that.”
“She’s staying grounded. That’s hard to do when you have access to a private jet.”
He hums. “Yeah.”
I start to say more, but stop before the words make it to the air. Murphy seems content with the breeze hitting his face, staring out the open window, and that makes me content as well. When we arrive at the Vietnamese restaurant, Murphy eyes me before unfastening his seat belt.
“What?”
He slowly shakes his head. “Nothing.”
We head inside, order our sandwiches at the counter, and find a table near the window to enjoy our lunch.