Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Ivy doesn’t bother to look guilty. “What I always do when we meet a gorgeous guy with his very own three thousand square foot Upper East Side apartment. I convince him it’s a good idea to help me with a project and then I run him against you and try to find a way to accidently introduce you.”
“How many times have you done this?” I’m utterly horrified, and now I’m wondering about all those times I ran into some guy who also happened to know Ivy. I kind of thought she knew them from her tech guru goddess days. And that is precisely why I turned them down when they asked me out. I avoid tech bros.
“Just a couple,” Ivy replies. “It’s a surprisingly small pool.”
“I told you we should also start looking at guys with a little less cash on hand,” Heath argues.
“She has expensive tastes.” Anika bites back a laugh. “So how did Reid do on the compatibility scale? Also, how did you get him to fill it out?”
“Oh, I lied and said it was part of the contract. The good news is most people don’t actually read their contracts. He thought it was super weird but did it anyway. I also have his brother’s file, but he is not of the same persuasion,” Ivy explains. “I do have some thoughts about him, but I’m going to hold on to them. I want to see him in action.”
“How in the hell are we compatible? Has Emma lost her damn mind?” There is zero way I match with that erudite jerk.
“Emma’s mind is excellent, thank you.” Heath looks a bit offended.
Ivy seems to study me for a moment. “Do you really want to know? Or do you want to just loathe him? It’s a valid choice.”
“I think loathe is the way to go.” There’s a buzz from the intercom, letting me know someone is at the door to the building. Except almost everyone I care about is right here. I get up and answer it.
“Hey, I’m looking for Harper Ross,” a masculine voice says.
“Who am I speaking with?” I’m not dating anyone, nor have I ordered anything.
There’s a hesitation. “Uhm, it’s Jeremiah Dorsey, and I promise you a hot chocolate if you come down and talk to me. I’ll make it a good one.”
Every eye is suddenly on me. Ani’s brows rise as though challenging me to do the right thing.
“You can bring him up here,” Ivy offers. “We have plenty of pizza.”
Heath frowns her way and grabs another slice. “Speak for yourself.”
No. If I bring him up here, he’ll chat, and I need to know what he wants. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
I grab my hoodie.
“He’s a nice guy,” Anika says, looking almost worried.
“I’m not going to blow anything up,” I promise. “He wants to talk, we’ll talk. Unless you think they’re both down there.”
Heath is at the window, staring down. “Looks like there’s only one guy. He’s got sandy hair. Oh, hey. And he’s waving.”
Reid Dorsey would never wave at people.
“It’ll be fine, Ani.” I hope she knows I would rather quit than hurt her project.
I make quick work of the stairs since the elevator only functions about half the time. When I hit the lobby, I’m ready to get this confrontation over with.
I step outside and Jeremiah Dorsey is there wearing a smart-looking jacket and the outfit he had on earlier. He’s paired it with a tartan scarf that makes him appear like he’s modeling a fall look. “Hey.”
He makes me feel like I should dress better.
He gives me a brilliant smile. Like a light up Broadway smile. This man was made for TV. “Harper. It’s good to see you again.” He points down the street. “The hot chocolate place is right down there. They have peppermint mini marshmallows.”
I’ve had enough of street vendors for the day. “I’ll pass. What did you need?”
He winces. “Well, I knew you were pissed. Was it the way he hit on you? Or the whole grocery stores are beneath him thing. They’re not, you know. He goes into them often. He doesn’t like to admit it but he’s human and has the need to cook from time to time. He’s quite good at it.”
“I’m sure he’s a gourmet cook. He probably went to that blue place in Paris.”
“Le Cordon Bleu?” Naturally his French accent is perfect. “Not at all. He didn’t learn to cook in culinary school. He learned it from YouTube because our father liked to screw the nanny and we often went without lunch if Reid didn’t make something. His grilled chicken is why I survived middle school.”
Oh, now I know why he’s here. “I’m not going to like your brother.”
“You don’t have to. But we are going to be working together.”
“Are we? Or are you trying to bring in someone named Lenny?”