Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Six four,” I inform her, feeling the corners of my own mouth twitch as I watch her process the new information.
“Well.” Austin clears her throat. “I’m not used to looking this far up. Congratulations on making me feel short.”
She is short, but I don’t hate it.
In fact, there’s something oddly endearing about the way she has to tilt her head to look up at me.
“Booth okay?” I ask, glancing down at her.
“Works for me,” she says with a small shrug, falling into step beside me as we follow the hostess toward the back of the bar.
I can feel the weight of her gaze as we walk, like she’s sizing me up in more ways than one. Normally, that kind of scrutiny would bother me, but with Austin, it doesn’t. It’s not judgment—it’s curiosity. Like she’s trying to figure out what makes me tick.
Not that there’s much to figure out.
Honestly? I’m a pretty simple guy.
Ha ha.
Still, I can’t help but wonder what she sees when she looks at me like that. Does she see the guy plastered all over the internet right now? The guy who can’t seem to avoid turning his personal life into a public spectacle?
Or does she see something else—something quieter, something closer to the person I used to be before all of this?
Before I can spiral into overthinking everything, we reach the booth and I step aside to let Austin choose which side to slide in first, eyes sliding down her backside as she scoots in.
Nice ass.
She catches me looking, but doesn’t comment; just arches a brow as if she knows exactly what I was thinking.
We settle in. Remove our coats.
“Alright,” she says, flipping the menu open like we’re not here to strategize our way out of a PR nightmare. “What’s the plan?”
I lean back in the booth, crossing my arms as I study her, in no hurry at all. “Plan for what?”
Her eyes widen as she lowers the menu enough to shoot me a pointed look.
“Maybe the fact that your face—and mine, by association—is currently trending on every social media platform? Is this us laying low?” She lifts the menu again, her eyes scanning as she chatters on. “By the way, I love the part in your press release where you describe me as a ‘family friend.’ So thoughtful.”
Oh, yeah.
That part.
“I didn’t write it—I only approved it,” I mumble, leaning back in the booth. “Mostly.” I sigh. “Okay fine I didn’t actually read it ‘coz I trust Danica to do her job.”
Her head bobs up and down in exaggerated agreement, her expression impossible to read behind the menu.
“Nothing screams ‘family friend’ like a guy smushing his face against the glass for a woman he’s supposedly not interested in.”
I scratch the back of my neck, trying to come up with a rebuttal that doesn’t sound like total bullshit.
“We didn’t have a ton of options—I told Danica we were neighbors, and you’ve met my sister, so…” I trail off, watching for her reaction.
“Uh-huh,” she says without looking up, focused on finding something to eat.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Look, the press needed something—something that wouldn’t make your life harder.”
She finally sets the menu down, her gaze locking onto mine with the kind of intensity that makes me sit up straighter.
“And you think calling me a ‘family friend’ makes my life easier?”
“Would you have preferred ‘mystery woman’?” I counter, raising a brow.
Her face scrunches up in mock disgust. “Ew, that’s horrid. Like something they’d say fifty years ago, back when people still wrote letters instead and didn’t have the internet.”
I laugh, relieved the mood is lightening. “Exactly. I was doing you a favor.”
“Oh, yeah. Huge favor,” she snorts dryly, picking up her glass of water. “What on Earth would I do without you?”
“Probably live a much quieter life,” I admit with a grin.
“Eh. I don’t mind the excitement. My life is pretty boring.”
I lean forward, resting my arms on the table. “Alright, enlighten me. What is it you do, anyway? Danica was asking.”
“Oh, Danica wants to know, does she?”
“Hey, I’m just the messenger,” I reply, raising my hands in mock defense. “You’ve got her all curious. She’s trying to figure out if you’re a threat to my public image or, you know, just a regular person.”
Austin rolls her eyes, her lips quirking in amusement. “Wow. A threat to your public image. Little me?”
Yes, little you.
“Are you secretly plotting my downfall, or do you have a boring day job like the rest of us mortals?”
She tilts her head, pretending to think. “Let’s see. I do own a black hoodie and sunglasses, which are basically prerequisites for an evil mastermind. But no—no secret plotting. Sorry to disappoint.”
I motion impatiently for her to go on. “And when you’re not preparing for world domination?”
“I’m a professor.”
I pause.
Blink.
Blink at her some more. “What?”