Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Maybe his hair is fake, maybe he has glued on hair, focus on the hair, Charlie!
Nope, nope, he runs his hand through his hair. I gulp. “Real.”
“Huh?” She elbows me. “What did you say?”
“Hair. Real. Nothing.” I almost pant. What else? He’s too tall and big. Tall and big could mean not so great of a fit in bed.
Bed though, beds are nice, and being manhandled and thrown up against one is the dream come true. I cross my legs. Nope, that’s not a negative that is strictly—positive, a nice little checkmark in his perfect little column, ha see I can make lists too!
I keep staring at him.
He’s pretty damn perfect.
It’s hard to find a flaw. Anything. At all. Without making my whole situation worse.
Wait! I’ve got it! Calories. Massive calories! Unfair but here it is!
He does eat a lot. I’ll give him that. I get he probably has to in order to feed the beast of a body... but still. It’s a lot.
With a body like that you’d think he’d watch it— but in the short time he’s been in our presence he’s had a donut, croissant, two handfuls of peanut M&Ms, and a good number of strawberries that he’s dipped in the chocolate sauce.
Not that I’m counting because that would be strange, watching a stranger eat and counting their macros like they’re mine. I’m only watching because I can’t take my eyes off him. I gulp.
He reaches for another donut.
I’m feeling a sweet tooth. An addiction. To sugar.
“Where are you guys from?” I hear Devon ask. I zone in immediately.
Stetson takes a massive bite out of another donut.
“Norway,” he says.
A Viking.
My. God. He’s a Viking! Of course, this makes absolute perfect sense. If he was born in eight-eighty- AD he would have been a king of some fjord. No doubt just pillaged his way through cities and women like a god.
“But we both live in England,” Jayson says as he takes a sip of the whiskey he was handed by one of the many attendants on the buggy.
“Oh?” Grace’s eyes light up like Christmas freakin’ morning.
It’s not hard to know what’s happening inside her brain, her eyes do this weird math thing where they go from left to right and back again.
She lives in England. I live in Florida. Do the math. That’s too long of a distance for her. And for me, for that matter. I’ve just settled into there being no choice for us.
Grace is another beast altogether… to be honest, she’s kind of an alien in that way—the way she thinks and makes things happen. She’s a manifester. She just moves through life like magic. Abracadabra… and there you have it!
I wish it was so easy.
Her dream in life would be for me to move across the pond and live right next door to her. Ummm… like that’s a real option considering the criteria to live next door to her would be as follows: I’d have to either a) win the lotto, and I’m not talking the ten million scratchers… I’m talking a real one with at least nine digits. Or b) marry someone who’s young, attractive and worth at least half a gazillion dollars. Normally I’d be rooting to get it myself but the pay from editing books is not helping—I could always press my luck and try writing an international bestseller myself, but that’s equivalent to winning the lotto kind of luck. And trust me, I know what’s going on out there. There are so many talented writers with books that are awesome, and they don’t hit. I’ve seen it happen so many times. So I know what the winning formula is—talent, luck and opportunity meeting at one glorious moment.
Basically… luck.
I watch Grace size Stetson up. She doesn’t aim low; I’ll give her that.
I steal a peak at Stetson again, I guess if he’s part of her dream, I’m here for it.
“He lives in Chelsea,” Jayson nods at Stetson and spills the beans. “And me and the wife are in Mayfair.”
Lots of nods in the group.
“I take it from some of your accents some of you are from the UK as well?” Jayson states the obvious.
“I’m a proud Brit and I married my American girl,” Devon smiles fondly at Grace, who pretends to be embarrassed by the attention. Please. She loves when all eyes are on her. She’s the opposite of me. She gives Devon a flirty wink.
Even after all the years they’ve been together.
Nauseating… but let’s be honest— goals.
“Charlie lives in Naples.” Grace points at me and provides the unsolicited piece of information.
There’s an awkward silence after she throws that out there. She has no shame.
“I love Italy.” Jayson replies politely as he cocks his brow in surprise.
Ugh.
Here we go…
“Naples, Florida, luv,” who knew Ellie remembered where I was from. “Kind of different.”