Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“Yes,” he whispered. He pulled his eyes away from my face to stare at the line of shops. “I mean, some. I used a few of the pages not long after you gave them to me, but I quickly stopped.”
“Why?”
Simon began walking again as he seemed to decide on our next stop. “The music I’d written wasn’t good enough. It was unoriginal and silly. Not worthy of being put on those beautiful sheets of paper. I’m saving them for something special.”
“Simon, anything you write is special. Use the sheets. I promised when I gave them to you that I’d get you more. Please use them.”
“True, but I wasn’t sure that you’d do it. We’ve barely spoken in years.”
“I promise as soon as I get to the office, I’ll order a new box of blank sheet music for you.”
“You’ll do it?”
A smile played on my lips. I couldn’t help noticing he was very much a stickler about whether I did something personally or if I handed it off to an assistant.
“I’ll handle it myself. No one else. Now, use the damn paper I gave you.”
“Fine. Don’t twist my arm or anything.” Simon led the way into a shop that had a strong floral scent and was colored as if we’d stepped into a bouquet of spring blooms.
“Pierce?”
I knew that voice, and in an instant, I remembered why I didn’t make frequent trips to Findlay Market. My stomach sank, but I pasted a stiff grin on my lips while inwardly praying for Simon to remain calm and polite. It was a shame it was too late to make a run for it.
Turning slightly, I nodded at the tall, slender blond with pale-brown eyes wearing a blue apron over his jeans and sweater. “Hello, Ash. It’s been a long time.”
“I’ll say. I never thought I’d see you in my shop.”
It nearly slipped out that I’d forgotten he owned and operated a specialty soap shop in Findlay Market, but I bit back the words at the last second. “Yes, it’s one of my—uh…” Fuck. Was I supposed to introduce him as my boyfriend?
Naturally, Simon jumped into the breach with all the subtlety and tact of a great white shark. “Hi, I’m Simon Miller, Pierce’s new boyfriend.” He thrust his hand toward Ash. His broad smile was all teeth and threats.
Fuck. My. Life.
“Oh, hi. It’s good to meet you.”
It had taken Simon no time at all to figure out that Ash was one of my exes, and he was staking his claim.
Simon released his hand and zipped to my side. He wrapped an arm around me and snuggled close, his head resting on my chest. “Pierce offered to take a break from work today in order to take me shopping for cheese.”
That was an interesting interpretation of the facts.
“Wonderful. Was there something I could help you find?”
I opened my mouth to nudge Simon into shopping mode again, but Simon loudly sighed.
“No, I think we’re good. It’s getting late, and I need to return to the symphony.” Simon leaned forward and lowered his voice as if he were telling a secret. “Pierce is bringing his parents tomorrow night to see me perform.”
Ash blinked, and I could almost hear him wondering why the fuck he should care. “That’s wonderful. You play with the Cincinnati Symphony.”
“Simon is their resident guest artist for the season,” I bragged because I couldn’t help myself. The world needed to know how amazing Simon was, even if the imp was acting as if he were about to piss on my leg to mark his territory. “But you’re right, we should get going. We don’t want you late for rehearsal.”
We said some quick good-byes, and I practically shoved Simon in the direction of the main doors.
“How long did you date?” Simon growled as we stepped outside in the cold air.
So much for the frigid temperatures clearing his head.
“I think we went out five or six times. It wasn’t long.”
“Who broke up with whom?”
I rolled my eyes and led us to my car. “He broke up with me.”
“What?” Simon screeched. He hurried in front of me and stopped, blocking my path. “Is that man a moron? Were you dating a complete idiot?”
“Would you rather I said I broke up with him?”
Some of his outrage melted into a frown, his shoulders slumping. “I’m not sure that’s better. Regardless, I’m never shopping at that store again. Even if he had really nice, silky soaps. And there was this one with a soft orange and honey scent.” A wistful sigh escaped him, and I almost laughed. “Whatever. I’m not giving your ex my money.”
My almost-laugh turned into a groan. “He barely even counts as an ex.” I stepped past him so I could move to the trunk of my BMW. It took some shifting of the bags between hands so I could pull the key fob from my pocket. “We went out on a handful of dates. Not a big deal. It was years ago, and he was still trying to get over his ex, whom he’d dated for almost five years. Did you see the ring on his finger?”