Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Approve of what?” Rafferty’s brows shoot up, a flicker of hope in his eyes that makes me laugh.
“Of her. She’s cool. Down to earth. Good sense of humor. You should lock that down before someone else does.”
Rafferty squints at me, but without any real heat. “What’d you two talk about?”
“Stuff.” I sip my coffee, trying to look as enigmatic as possible just to annoy him.
He leans back against the sink, crossing his arms. “Farren…”
“Relax,” I say, laughing. “We talked about you, obviously.”
“Such as…”
I smirk at the way he’s trying to play it cool. “She likes you, bro. You need to run with it.”
“Really?” he asks with no effort now to temper his eagerness for more knowledge.
I nod, setting my mug down. “Yes, really. Now isn’t the time for you to be too casual. If you’re interested, you need to let her know.”
“I have,” he says in a low rumble of feeling. “She knows.”
The tenderness in his expression makes my chest ache in that annoying, sentimental way. I’ve seen Rafferty with plenty of women over the years, but it’s different this time.
I bump his shoulder as I move to rinse out my mug. “How about we get this place cleaned up so she isn’t turned off by your bachelor pad ways?” I tease, and give him a friendly nudge with my hip when he looks slightly panicked. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t overthink it. And for the love of God, don’t say anything stupid.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
The rest of the morning is spent helping Raff clean up his condo, which honestly doesn’t need much. I change out the linens in his bedroom and the guest rooms, teasing him the whole time about how much effort he’s putting in to impress Tempe.
By the time I’m done, I’m restless. I need to get out of here, and I already know exactly where I’m going. I shower, take my time with my makeup and hair, and don my sexiest lingerie.
Grabbing my backpack, I head for the door. Rafferty’s standing in the kitchen, looking like he just stepped out of a J.Crew catalog in his jeans and long-sleeve shirt. He’s so put together, so steady. The perfect big brother.
“Where are you going?” he asks, his brow furrowing.
“To hang with a friend,” I say, slinging the backpack over my shoulder.
“What friend?” His curiosity is sharp, but there’s no suspicion.
I turn and give him a pointed look. “I happen to have friends here in the States as well as other countries, Raff. Why you think I wouldn’t is beyond me. Hello, I’m the social butterfly from hell.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Fine, don’t tell me. Just… be safe, okay?”
I grin, going on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Always.”
As I step out of the condo, the cold Pittsburgh air hits me, but I don’t mind. I take a deep breath, my pulse quickening as I order an Uber. I contemplate texting North to let him know I’m coming over but then that wouldn’t be any fun. I want to see the surprise on his face and I want to see it morph into lust when he realizes what a gift he’s got on his doorstep.
♦
The car drops me off in front of North’s house, and I step onto the curb, pulling my backpack over my shoulder. The air is crisp, the kind that makes you feel alive.
I’ve been here twice, and it was surprising to me the first time to learn that North lives in an upscale neighborhood in Oakmont, right along the Allegheny River. In fact, from his third-floor balcony, he has a lovely view of the water.
It’s not so much I’m surprised he lives in a nice place, because hello… he’s rich. But most of the young players live in apartments or condos, usually preferring to avoid the responsibilities of traditional home ownership like mowing lawns or repairing roofs.
But North loves his house and the neighborhood. It’s the type where children ride their bikes on warm days, and it really told me all I needed to know about the man.
He’s an end-gamer. A man with an agenda and a goal, and he’s aiming for a family at some point. The thought of such commitment makes me wonder why I’m here. He’s the exact type I try to avoid, and yet I can’t seem to force myself to run after the Uber that’s a hundred yards down the block.
Instead, I take a breath and study the exterior of his home glowing in the late-afternoon sun. It’s three stories and what one might consider a modern transitional style with porches on all three floors, white siding and black shutters. The small yard is bordered by a three-foot wrought iron fence and a welcoming gate that leads from the sidewalk up to the front door.