Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Up front okay?”
I don’t even deign to give that question a response. I’m not going to Driving Miss Daisy her ass through the streets of Chicago.
“Up front,” she confirms, tugging open the door and making herself right at home among my crap, though it’s not fast food wrappers you have to contend with in my car; it’s papers: files, documents, memos.
She has them all tucked neatly into a pile on the floor by the time I’m behind the wheel. Her scent is everywhere, hitting me like a wall when I close the door and buckle up. She’s perched herself on my leather seat, her hands folded together on her lap. I flip on the seat warmers and show her where she can adjust hers.
“Thanks. I love toasty buns.”
I shake my head and start to back out. My car started streaming music from my phone as usual. It’s a Marcus Mumford live set, and Scarlett asks if she can turn it up.
I nod and she reaches over, ever so carefully turning the dial until she’s satisfied.
I loop around to the back exit of the parking garage. “Tell me where to go.”
Once outside, she points ahead. “Take a right here.”
Then a moment later, “Left. And…home.”
Okay, so her apartment is as close as she promised it would be, a laughable distance from the office, but it’s snowing and the people outside look miserable. Like look at that smiling lady; I’ll bet she wishes someone were driving her.
“You really saved me.”
I look over at Scarlett with a droll glare.
“I would have been cold for like two minutes.” She mock-shudders at the thought.
“Out.”
She laughs, unbuckles her seatbelt, and leans toward me.
It’s muscle memory that has me leaning back toward her, like my body knows what it means when a woman crosses over the console of a car with her chin tipped up and promise in her eyes. It takes everything I have in me not to take ahold of her chin, not to tip her face up toward mine and bend down to kiss her.
“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Rhodes.”
Her dimple pops, and before I can chastise her about something, anything, she hops out of my car and hurries toward her apartment building, chatting with her doorman for a second before disappearing into the lobby.
Chapter Sixteen
Scarlett
“Any holiday plans?”
I’m at my desk on Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, working through emails when the question comes out of nowhere. First, I look around at the inanimate objects surrounding me, like maybe the West Elm lamp I brought in to spruce up the place has been a sentient being this whole time and I didn’t realize it.
Across the room, Kendra looks at me expectantly. She’s willingly asked me a question.
“Oh, just seeing family. You?”
I try to sound casual about it, like a dad testing the waters with his hormonal teenage daughters. You don’t want to spook them into remembering they hate you.
“Same, yeah. My brother’s visiting.” She’s looking at her computer again, scrolling with her mouse.
I nod like, Cool, cool.
Inside, I’m elated.
Since Halloween, Kendra has been neutral toward me, but there have been no conversations outside of work-required questions. Did you send so-and-so form back to Sophie? Have you heard back about any delays with XYZ contract? Maybe Kendra’s just getting in the holiday spirit and she’s happy she gets to see her brother soon. Maybe she got laid last night.
I have mixed feelings about the holiday weekend. On one hand, Wyatt is flying in from London and Conrad and his fiancée Hannah are coming in from California. They’re supposed to get in this afternoon and we’re all meeting for a late dinner at our family’s favorite Italian restaurant downtown. Then we’ll see a late-night screening of whatever superhero movie is currently in theaters—our Thanksgiving Eve tradition. Outside of stuffing our faces tomorrow, my mom has an entire weekend of wedding planning scheduled for Conrad and Hannah. It’ll be one of the few times they’re in Chicago before their March wedding, so my mom is in full-on strategy mode. I’m tagging along too, mostly to act as an impartial judge during crucial decisions (i.e. cake tasting). It’s a thankless job, but someone has to do it.
Cooking for the holiday will be a team effort. My dad and mom usually tag-team the turkey. Wyatt and I will be on cocktail duty. Nyles and Barrett will handle the sides, and Hannah and Conrad are on appetizers. Our group text has been insane this week with people sending and vetoing recipe options. Who knew there were so many ways to cook green beans?!
All in all, it’ll be a fun weekend with my family, but it’ll also be the longest I’ve gone without being in the office since I started at Elwood Hoyt. I don’t know why I care. I guess I’m just really going to miss my office plant and adequate-at-best desk chair. And what am I going to do without the free Costco brand K-Cup pods from the break room?