Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
His voice drops a few octaves. “Are you going to let me in or what?”
The deep timbre of it is enough to send arousal flooding my core.
My mouth dries as I jerk my shoulders into a careless shrug before reluctantly taking a step back and waving him in. He saunters past me into the compact living and dining room space. I make sure to give him a wide berth as I head to my bedroom to grab my computer and the handout that describes the project in more depth.
“I’ll be right back.”
It’s only when I pick up the laptop from my desk and spin around that I realize Ford has followed me. His gaze travels around the room, taking in all the posters and photos that cover the walls. There are fluffy pillows on the queen-sized bed along with an oversized Squishmallow. There’s a ton of makeup tubes, bottles, and compacts cluttering the top of the desk along with a pile of discarded outfits from the weekend thrown haphazardly over the back of the chair.
“Let’s work at the table in the other room. It’ll be more comfortable.”
“Nah. Here is fine.”
Before the last word leaves his lips, he throws himself onto the bed and stretches out, stacking his hand behind his head. I hate how much the movement makes his biceps pop.
I force my attention away as my pulse quickens. “Don’t get too comfortable.”
My grumbled-out comment makes his simmering smile turn into more of a slow grin. It’s one that can melt the iciest of hearts.
Mine included.
I refocus my attention on the rubric. The sooner we get this over with, the quicker I can kick his ass out of here and get back to my novel. “We need to come up with a product and then develop a marketing plan that includes research, SWOT analysis, objectives, target market segmentation, strategies, an implementation plan, along with a way to measure and evaluate what we’ve done.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
I snort.
What it sounds like is a lot of work.
Even though I refuse to admit it to Ford, he’s probably spot on in his assessment of Cameron. I would have got stuck doing all the heavy lifting. And considering that I have four other classes, and I’m still fine tuning my routine for the showcase, I won’t have the time to take on a project of this magnitude alone.
My ex-stepbrother might be a lot of things, but a slacker isn’t one of them.
“The first order of business is to come up with a product we can sell,” I say.
Ford chews his lower lip as he stares silently at the ceiling. There’s a slight furrow to his brow. The urge to smooth it out is so strong that I have to tighten my fingers, so I don’t do exactly that.
The kiss we shared the other day nudges its way into my brain. I hate to admit just how much it’s been lurking there.
Unaware of the dangerous thoughts circling through my head, he says, “What about a product for kids who play hockey? Like a rectangular board that’s six foot in length and slippery. It can be utilized two different ways. One, you wear a pair of socks and work on lengthening your stride and two, you could use it with a puck to practice stick skills.”
He turns his head just enough for his gaze to fasten onto mine.
“Remember the one Dad made? All my friends loved it.”
My mind tumbles back to freshman year of high school. While my stepfather built me a private studio, Ford had an area in the basement where he could practice hockey and lift weights. If there was something they wanted that wasn’t sold on the market, Crawford built it himself. Like hooking up a thick tarp to the basketball hoop where Ford could shoot pucks without worrying about them sailing fifty yards into the backyard. One broken window of the pool house was more than enough impetus to engineer just such a product.
It’s not the worst idea in the world.
“Sure.”
He flashes a grin. “See how well we work together?”
“Yeah…let’s not get carried away.”
Although, secretly, I suspect he isn’t wrong. Especially when he stops trying to provoke me at every turn.
Needing to refocus my attention, I glance at the rubric before jotting down a few notes. “So, the next step would be to research the market and see if there are similar products and what their price points are.”
“Yup. Sounds like a plan.”
For the next thirty minutes, we do a deep dive on the internet. There are a few similar inventions, but all have slight variations. We take notes of the differences and brainstorm some ideas about how we can make ours stand out against its competitors.
When my back begins to ache, I rise to my feet and stretch. Ford sets his computer on the other side of the bed and rolls toward me before patting the mattress next to him.