Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
* * *
Noah just had to be a gentleman, Fallon thought the next morning, as the real mortification of what she’d done set in. She’d thrown herself at the man. After he’d made her come against the wall in the alley because she’d kissed him first.
“I am never drinking again,” she muttered.
“I agree. I have a splitting headache,” Brooke, who’d slept over, said, padding her way into the kitchen looking as shitty as Fallon felt. She picked up a coffee pod and popped it into the machine, making herself a cup of coffee.
Fallon took a sip of her own, savoring the flavor and waiting for a jolt of caffeine.
“You were pretty quiet last night in the Uber home. Want to tell me what had you so off?”
“I made out with Noah. I know that sounds like a teenage thing to say but looking back, that’s how it felt. I kissed him first and next thing I knew, we were in the alley and… well, you can imagine.”
Brooke’s eyes opened wide. “Fallon Sterling, you dirty girl,” her friend said, laughing. “Go you. So what happened?”
“I asked him to go home with me and he turned me down.” Even now she felt the heat of embarrassment over his rejection rise to her cheeks. “He said I was tipsy and he wouldn’t take advantage.”
Brooke treated her to a smile, her lips turning upward, as she nodded, obviously impressed. “A chivalrous guy in this day and age. Color me impressed.”
“Or turned off by my forwardness. And he’s not a guy, he’s a man. An older man and if you remember, I’ve sworn off having anything to do with those.”
Brooke sighed. “No two men are alike. You know this.”
She wasn’t ready to think about the truth in her friend’s statement. Instead, she looked at her Apple Watch. “Okay. Saturday’s a busy day at the gallery, so I need to get moving.”
Brooke waved a hand. “Fine. Try and ignore my wise words but I’ll be right here to remind you.” She placed her coffee mug in the sink, rinsed, and put it in the dishwasher.
Fallon did the same. “What are you up to today?”
“I need to go home and do laundry,” Brooke said with a roll of her eyes. “Everyone’s least favorite chore.”
Once they were ready, they parted ways, Brooke taking a car home to the gatehouse where she lived with her mom while she saved money, and Fallon took the subway to work. Unlike Jared who preferred a driver, she and Aiden preferred the subway. It was faster than sitting in traffic.
A little while later, she arrived at the gallery, stopping at the café on the corner to buy a breakfast treat. She walked through the door, a bag with a scone inside in one hand, to find Clara had arrived early. She sat in the back behind her desk, Oliver peering over her shoulder. No doubt she had the gallery financials pulled up on the computer because that was the only thing he was interested in when it came to the business. The accounting, not the art.
“Good morning,” Fallon said, keeping her voice cheery despite Oliver’s unwanted—at least by her—presence.
“Hello, Fallon,” he muttered, straightening from his position by the computer.
“Good morning,” Clara said, in a dull voice.
One look at Clara and Fallon knew something was wrong. Her face was pale and her lips were pursed tight. “Is everything okay?”
“Mother was just telling me she wasn’t feeling well. She’s nauseous and dizzy,” Oliver said.
Fallon immediately walked over to her friend and sat down across from her antique desk. “I think you should make a doctor’s appointment with your cardiologist,” she murmured. “Maybe it’s something related to your heart condition.” Reaching out, she covered Clara’s more weathered hand with her own.
“Or maybe it’s a virus and she just needs to go home and rest,” her son said.
Fallon narrowed her gaze. At his mother’s age, it was careless to make assumptions about what was wrong with Clara. “Clara, can I at least take you home?” she asked. Although she hated to leave Oliver here alone, he could handle business until she returned.
“That might be best,” Clara said. “I’m quite dizzy.”
“I’ll take you.” Oliver spoke in a tone that didn’t allow for an argument, especially when he grasped his mother’s elbow and helped her from the chair. “Let me get you settled in bed. I’ll make your favorite tea,” he said, then glanced at Fallon. “Mother loves the tea I brought back from abroad. Are you sure you don’t want to try some? The spiced chai is delicious.”
“No,” she said, more firmly than she had the last time he’d offered. Maybe he’d stop trying to push his tea on her.
He readied his mother to leave, making sure she had her purse, and waited for Fallon and Clara to coordinate opening tomorrow if Clara needed to stay home. He tapped his foot in a steady beat, his impatience showing.