Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 25616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
“I found it!” I say as I triumphantly pull out the addresses scribbled on the back of an overdue phone bill. “Home and office.”
I zip up my purse and toss it over my shoulder. “See? I can do some things right.”
Greg frowns as he points at the shelf on the column. “You forgot your passport.”
Shit.
I go bright red as I grab it and stuff it into my pocket.
“Go,” Willow warns him. “Now.”
Greg drops his head with a sigh and shuffles away.
“Have a great trip!” I call out to him. He doesn’t turn around.
Hopefully, some sun and Mai Tais will lighten him up a bit or my sister is in for a rough two weeks.
“I left all of the detailed instructions for Munchies on the kitchen counter,” she says, playing with my hair. “If you have any questions, you can call me day or night.”
“I’ll be fine. And so will Munchies.”
“Thanks for doing this,” she says, giving me one more hug. “Don’t forget to get the key at my office first.”
“Why didn’t you leave it with a neighbor?”
She snorts out a laugh. “This is New York, Amber. We don’t talk to our neighbors.”
I try to stop the frown from forming on my face. That sounds awful.
“I told the front desk you’ll be coming by, so they’ll let you up no problem. Just try to stay out of the path of Mr. Strickland.”
“Your asshole boss?”
“He’s not an asshole,” she says with a sigh. “He’s just…”
“Grumpy, strict, mean, overbearing, intimidating?”
“Yeah, pretty much. Just… Don’t engage. Grab the key and leave.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say with a smile. “Mr. Cranky Pants won’t scare me.”
“I don’t know about that,” she says with a wince. “He scares everybody.”
“It’s almost eight o’clock,” I say looking at my watch. “He’ll be long gone by the time I get there.”
“I doubt that,” she mutters under her breath, a haunting look in her eyes. Geez, she looks like she has PTSD from working with this guy. What has he done to her?
I spot Greg by the security entrance with his hands on his hips, muttering angrily to himself, and I cringe, hating that I’ve made their vacation start off like this.
“You should go,” I say with a grin. “Before Greg has a panic attack.”
She laughs and then hugs me again.
“Take this,” she whispers as she reaches into her purse and pulls out a wad of cash.
“No,” I say as she shoves it into the pocket of my jeans. “Absolutely not.”
I try to take it out, but my sister has a steel grip on my wrist. She’s still got her volleyball strength from all those years on the varsity team.
“You’re doing us a service,” she says, staring me down, “and we insist on paying you.”
“Willow, I don’t…”
“Stop,” she says, her tone signifying that this is not up for discussion.
My shoulders drop as I pull out my hand, keeping the money inside my pocket. It’s not like I’m in a position to argue about free money. My bank account has been on life support for as long as I can remember. “Thank you.”
She smiles and hugs me one more time. “I gotta go. Have a great time. Enjoy the city, but be careful. Don’t be so trusting. This isn’t Vermont. A healthy dose of skepticism goes a long way out here.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say as I give her one last squeeze. “And please don’t spend your week fighting with Greg. Go topless on that secluded beach I found for you. It should help.”
She laughs as her cheeks blush a little, finally showing some color. She’s so pale she might be mistaken for a resident of Transylvania while going through security.
I watch her rush through the crowd to catch up to Greg. They both turn and wave to me before heading in.
I take a deep breath as I watch them disappear.
I’m on my own now. Big Apple here I come.
First stop…
Shit!
I look around and see the address on the floor, a few feet away. I quickly rush over and grab it from under someone’s shoe before Greg sees and comes back to call me irresponsible and flaky in addition to flighty.
First stop… Strickland Innovations Group. 480 Eastmont Center, Floor 47.
It’s time to get the key to my home for the next two weeks and see this mean, grumpy boss that my sister is always complaining about.
And maybe, just maybe, put him in his damn place.
CHAPTER TWO
Logan
When the clock hits nine, I loosen my tie. It is my birthday after all. I should allow myself some luxury.
Forty-three. I still have the energy and vitality of a twenty-year-old and if it weren’t for the gray hairs meeting me in the mirror every morning, I wouldn’t believe I was already this old.
The sun is just about finished its beautiful descent behind me, and as usual, I missed it all. When you’ve seen one New York City sunset, you’ve seen them all. The world’s greatest city is sprawled out on the other side of my spotless floor-to-ceiling windows, lit up in all its glory, but I don’t tear my eyes away from my three computer screens to admire it.