Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“Yeah. You miss him.”
“Not like you think,” she admits in a whisper that nearly gets lost in the wind.
“Like an uncle?”
Her face sours. “I slept with him. Definitely not like an uncle.”
Irrational anger churns in my gut imagining her sleeping with some guy who’s friends with her dad. How does one fuck someone like her and not keep her? Furthermore, how the hell someone like her is chasing after this guy and not the other way around is beyond me.
“I just…after what happened with us in Eduardo’s office, it pissed me off.” I level her with a no-nonsense stare. “I like you, Sher.”
Her stiffness fades and she looks up at me with a shy, pretty smile. “You can’t like me. I’ll be gone tomorrow.”
“I can still like you.” I flash her a smug grin. “I do what I want.”
“It hurt my feelings.” Her lip quivers once before she bites down on it. “It embarrassed me.”
Well, fuck.
I feel like an asshole.
Reaching across the small table, I take her hand in mine. “I’m sorry. I’m going to make it up to you today. Then, when we’re forced to part ways tomorrow, you’ll have nothing but good memories of me. The handsome pilot with a big dick.”
She laughs, loud and unladylike, tugging her hand away and shaking her head at me. The waiter returns with a couple of beers and our beer snacks. It’s basically a plate loaded down with smoked meats, cooked carrots, and potatoes. He also delivers some nachos and salsa. Our small table is filled to the brim.
As we eat, I ask her about her company. She’s clearly a badass boss babe. It’s interesting to see her speak of acquisitions and merges. The fierceness in her voice makes my dick hard. It also makes me sad. Her entire persona hardens. The soft, laughing girl from moments ago is gone.
“I lost you,” she says after a moment. “I’m sorry. I’m boring you.”
“Boring me?” I chuckle. “Never. Not you, abejita. I was just wondering if you’re happy.”
Rather than answering me, she tosses a piece of meat in her mouth and chews, her brows furled together. When she finally washes it down with the beer, she shrugs.
“I get to hang out with my dad every day and make lots of money. What’s there to not be happy about?”
I lift a brow. “There’s more to life than chilling with your dad and making money. Take it from someone who knows about that explicitly.”
“You avoid your hometown,” she bites out, growing hostile. “Abandoned your mother. And yet now you want to lecture me on happiness. You wouldn’t know what happy was even if it bit you in the ass!”
“Put the claws away, tigress. I’m not shaming you. Jesus, woman,” I growl. “I’m only saying you deserve more.”
All the fire is snuffed out in an instant.
“I told off your mom,” she reveals, her eyes flashing with horror. “Oh my God. I’m sorry.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “Mamá can handle herself.”
“She can,” she says, pouting. “She slapped me.”
My eyes pop on. “What?”
“I deserved it. I was being a total bitch.”
“I’ll talk to her,” I grumble. “That was out of line.”
“Don’t,” she mutters. “Seriously. I felt like a horrible person. The things I said to her…I would’ve slapped me too. It’s done. Let’s just enjoy the day.”
That we do.
Our conversation turns lighter over lunch. She loves the food and it’s a joy watching her smile so much. I learn she’s traveled all over the globe for work. This woman has literally been to more places than I have, which is saying a lot. Her apartment is on the fourteenth floor in her high-rise and she secretly likes it because technically she’s on the thirteenth floor (since the building doesn’t officially have a thirteenth floor for superstitious reasons) and she feels like she’s living on the edge. It’s cute as hell listening to her babble about her favorite show on the Discovery Channel—something about people living off the land in the Alaskan bush. She always goes out on Sundays for brunch with her dad and then ends up in a little bookshop near her loft apartment. After hours, she buys books on things she’ll never pursue, and adds them to her massive collection at home. I’m so transfixed by learning the intricacies of her, I don’t hear her say my name.
“Earth to bird boy,” she grumbles. “Am I really that boring?”
“What? No. I was trying to imagine what it was that a girl like you would want so badly that she’d buy books on it and then not pursue it. Aren’t you the woman who gets what she wants?”
Her mouth parts. “That’s the one piece you plucked from all that?”
“You’re fascinating. Tell me.”
“We’re just friends for the day,” she says with a shrug. “That’s the sort of information you reserve for someone you love. And we simply don’t have enough time for love.”