Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“You like him now?” She rolls her eyes. “You are actually admitting it?”
“No. This is…” I try to think of a suitable answer. “I’m just checking on him for the sake of the kids.”
Hank smirks as he licks his ice cream.
“That’s a deplorable lie and you know it,” Emerson grumbles. “Did he tell you he had a date?”
"No, the girl-woman, whatever she is—rang and left a message with me, asking me to tell him she had changed the arrangements. Apparently, his phone was switched off and she couldn't reach him." I sigh disgusted.
Emerson frowns as she looks across the street. “What did he say when you gave him the message?”
“He seemed uncomfortable.”
She smirks at me.
“What?” I snap.
“I love it when I know something others think I don’t know.”
I smile and tap my ice cream to hers. “Same here.”
I turn my attention to Hank. “Tell me about the concert.” He went to a dance concert at the weekend and we set him some tasks.
Hank smiles proudly.
“He did it. Hank kissed a girl.” Emerson smiles.
“You did?” I can’t hide my excitement. “This is great. Did you get to second base?”
“No.” He screws up his face because it sounds so foreign to him.
The doors of the restaurant open, and we all slide down in our seats. “Here they come,” Emerson whispers.
Mr. Masters is wearing a navy suit, and he holds the door open for the woman and as she walks through. He takes her hand in his.
My mouth falls open. “Are you kidding me?” The girl he is with is blonde, beautiful, and she’s wearing a red dress.
“What?” Emerson whispers. “Why are we whispering? He can’t hear us. She’s pretty. I’m impressed.” She raises her eyebrow in surprise.
“She’s young!” I snap. “Is he frigging kidding?”
"She's in her late twenties, I'd say," Emerson tells me. "That's not too young. What seems to be the problem?" Steam feels like it's shooting from my hot ears. "What would a young bombshell want with a middle-aged man like that?"
Emerson rolls her eyes. “Funny you should ask that. I do wonder myself.”
Hank snickers. “Touché.”
“She’s just after his money,” I grumble.
Emerson raises her eyebrow. “Remind me again; why we are spying on him?”
“Because he’s a fucking idiot,” I snap way too loudly.
We sit in silence as we watch them walk around the corner, hand in hand.
Emerson’s eyes hold mine. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“What’s going on?”
I hesitate for a moment. I’ll just tell her a snippet and warm her up to the idea. “I’m really attracted to him. Every time we’re in the room together the sexual chemistry is off the charts.”
Emerson’s eyes widen, filled with horror. “Will you stop it?”
“What?” I shrug. “We came on this holiday to explore ourselves. I want to explore him.” I sigh. “He’s fucking gorgeous.”
“So what if he’s gorgeous? This is a bad idea. Do not engage in any sexual relations with that man or you are going to end up being Monica Lewinsky.”
I giggle. “Slight exaggeration.”
“Who is Monica Lewinsky?” Hank frowns.
Emerson and I both shake our heads. “Long story.” I sigh.
“If he wasn’t your boss I would say go for it, but he is your boss. If you want to explore this, fine, but find another job first.” I point at her. “That’s a really good idea.”
“I didn’t mean you should leave.” She frowns. “I meant don’t do it.”
I lick my ice cream, annoyed with my friend. Emerson doesn’t need to know all my business anyway.
I’m sick to fucking death of doing what everyone else expects of me.
If I want him, I’ll have him.
“And, of course, there’s now the small matter of his girlfriend.” Emerson sighs. “He’s not even on the market for you to have.”
I roll my eyes, annoyed by her fact-finding. I can't believe he's got a girlfriend.
He's now just another fucking asshole notch to add to my bedpost.
Julian
I open the car door for Bernadette and watch as she slides into her seat before I walk around and get in beside her.
Her eyes flicker over to me, and she rubs my thigh. “Let’s go back to my place. The kids are with their father.”
I take her hand in mine to stop it from exploring, and I pull out into the traffic. “I can’t tonight.”
Her face falls. “Why not?”
Here we go. I knew this was coming.
“I’ve got things on tomorrow. I need to get home.” “What’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you for two weeks and now you don’t even want to come back to my place when we finally get to see each other.”
“Nothing is going on with me.”
“Are you seeing someone else?”
I roll my eyes. “If I am, it doesn’t matter because we, Bernadette, are not exclusive. You’ve known that all along.”
She stays silent and I find myself glancing between her and the road. “What?” I ask, cutting through the silence.