Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Poor you,” Gannon says as a blob of my latte pools at the end of his thin black tie and then drops to the floor, barely missing his shoes.
I can’t take it anymore. “Here, let me help you.”
Before he can protest, I step in front of him and press the wad of tissues against his chest.
“What are you doing?” he asks crisply, peering down at me.
“Cleaning you up. You’re dripping on the floor.” I snort. “That was your line.”
I start to laugh at my joke, but when my gaze collides with his, the laughter fades.
My God.
My hand stalls against him as heat radiates off his body. His eyes burn into mine. I force a swallow, willing my face not to turn beet red and my body not to pool on the floor beside my matcha.
“Again, I apologize,” I say, dragging my hand down his chest before it falls to my side. “I was just trying to help.”
“Help by staying over there.” He lifts a brow, reaching for tissues before patting as much liquid from himself as possible. “Who are you, anyway?”
I stare at him and try my hardest not to get lost in his eyes. What the hell?
“Really, Gan?” Tate asks.
“Who am I?” I ask, repeating Gannon’s question. While we haven’t exactly had a conversation before, I know damn good and well that he knows who I am. “That’s good for the ego.”
His lips twitch in an almost smile as if my irritation pleases him. This man is a menace. “I’m terrible with names.”
“That seems like an unfortunate deficiency for a CEO.”
“Fortunately, that’s my only one.”
“That’s what they all say,” I fire back without missing a beat.
Tate sighs from behind me.
My skin feels too tight for my body as I stand beneath Gannon’s intense gaze. Is he humored by this exchange or pissed about the drink? Or both? I’m not sure. I don’t know him well enough to read him. My knowledge of Gannon Brewer is limited to the basics.
He’s grumpy. Tate says Gannon is always borderline churlish. If he smiles, something must be wrong. He’s emotionally unavailable. I overheard Tate telling this to a woman at a party who wanted Gannon’s phone number. Gannon is thirteen years older than me—a man of beekeeping age. And most importantly, as Tate’s brother, Gannon is absolutely, one hundred percent forbidden. Tate would kill me.
Gannon is simply a giant red flag. Regrettably, giant red flags are my weakness.
I press my lips together and implore myself not to grin at the sexy beast.
“This room isn’t big enough for the three of us,” Tate says. “One of you is going to have to leave.”
“I’m on my way out,” Gannon says, never taking his eyes off me. “I need to run by my office and switch my shirt, tie, and jacket since I’m now wearing a matcha latte.”
“Impressive,” I say, nodding approvingly.
“Because I can identify a beverage?”
I smirk. “You don’t seem like you get out much.”
And up goes that brow again. The man does love being challenged.
“If you’re this easily impressed,” he says, “then you should let me—”
Yes!
“That’s enough,” Tate says.
Buzzkill.
Tate’s chair scratches against the floor as he backs it away from his desk.
Gannon turns to his brother. “Since Carys is your friend, I assume you’ll pick up my dry-cleaning tab?”
“Oh, so you do know my name,” I say, a smile splitting my cheeks.
He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t be flattered. It’s written on your cup.”
Sure enough, my name is scrawled on the container in my hand.
“Hey, Gan,” Tate says, coming around his desk and sitting on the corner. “Carys had something she wanted to talk to you about. We might as well do it now since the ice has been broken.” His gaze drops to the floor. “Or spilled.”
Gannon groans as if this five-minute interaction might ruin his entire day. I consider telling him I could rock his world in five minutes and make it up to him, but I think I’ve done enough damage for one interaction.
“Just appeal to his practicality. Make him feel like he’s getting a good deal. He’s a sucker for a bargain.”
Showing my cleavage was so much easier.
I clear my throat and lift my gaze to Gannon’s. He’s watching me closely, the irritation from before softened by curiosity.
“I’d be happy to handle the dry-cleaning,” I say sweetly. Bonus points if I get to help you undress. “Since it’s my fault and all.”
His head cocks to the side, but he says nothing.
“But before we get you out of those clothes,” I say with a wink. “I have a proposition for you.”
Gannon smirks.
“Dammit,” Tate mutters.
I bite my lip to keep from smiling and squeeze my thighs to fight my libido from exploding over that sinful look on Gannon’s face.
I extend a hand. “Since we’ve never officially met, I’m Carys Johnson. I’m Tate’s best friend and the owner of Plantcy. We’re a new mobile plant care company in Nashville.”