Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23614 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23614 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
3
Jamie
The Wythe is a hip hotel in the northernmost reaches of Williamsburg. It’s in a formerly industrial area, and in fact, there are still warehouses nearby, although now, they’re covered with colorful murals and even painted advertisements for luxury goods. But all sorts of interesting-looking people wander in and about the hotel, dressed to the nines while going about their business.
I look down at myself and frown a bit. I fluffed out my hair after my shift, and ditched the apron, of course, but I’m not dressed like a Brooklyn hipster at all. Somehow, I just can’t pull off that cool, vintage-y, matching but not matchy vibe. Instead, I’m wearing a baby t-shirt with jeans, and plain Keds decorate my feet. I know that Adidas sambas are the “it shoe” these days, but I’ve been wearing Keds since I was a girl, and I adore the canvas sneakers still.
I sigh. I suppose that’s one part of New York that I love and hate at once. I love the fact that people get dressed up just to go about their lives. Where I come from, people wear the same style of Wranglers every day for years. Literally, my dad’s probably never even bought a different cut, and he always pairs his jeans with a button-down shirt and fleece vest. It’s a boring look, and furthermore, everyone in Hooper, Wyoming, dresses like Ed.
But the monotony is comforting too because here in New York, clothes are like plumage. A ride on the subway is a masterclass in pulling together an outfit with artistry, whether subtle or overt. There are folks with feathers in their hair, and others wearing pink nylon skin-tight jumpsuits. There are even people wearing Wranglers and button-down shirts, just like my dad. The diversity astonishes me, and sometimes, I feel pressure to live up to the vibe. Where this pressure comes from, I don’t know. I guess I feel like New York is a big competition in some ways, and it’s one that I’m constantly failing with my faded jeans and plain t-shirts.
Well, Dane can’t expect you to be dressed up, the voice in my head reasons. You were just on shift! What does he expect?
I smile to myself while entering the hotel.
I just wish I looked a little cuter today, that’s all, the other voice in my head argues. Sexier, too.
The knowledge makes me shiver with anticipation because I have to admit the truth – I’m attracted to my dad’s best friend. Sure, Dane’s decades older. Sure, he’s probably taken too, since he dates up a storm back in Hooper. Sure, any relationship between us would be completely inappropriate given that he went to college with my father. Yet I’m attracted to Dane’s handsome, patrician features; that incredibly athletic body; and the asshole personality that was on display earlier today when he came by the café. It makes me want to slap him, but then plaster myself to the alpha male while seeking his kisses in the next moment. Is that crazy? Am I going insane?
You are, Jamie, the voice in my head answers in a wry tone. You are officially losing it.
But instead of feeling out of control and scared, all I feel is a rush of anticipation while I make my way to Room 767. My body is alert, and every nerve tingles as I raise my hand to knock. What will Dane say to me next? Will he kiss me again?
The door swings open, and the sight of the huge man takes my breath away. Dane is still dressed in the same blue jeans and sweater from before, but somehow he seems bigger. More massive, even, as his head almost brushes the ceiling of the room.
“Hey sweetheart,” he says in a casual tone, stepping aside to let me enter. “Come on in.”
I enter the room, and then come to an abrupt halt.
“Wait, this isn’t a regular hotel room. This is a suite.”
“It is,” the dark man chuckles while shutting the door behind me. “We’re here in New York to visit a couple outposts of Dane’s Coffee, so I figured I’d get a bigger place. You know, spread out a little.”
I circle around because Room 767 is obviously not your average suite. The ceilings are high, and the huge windows along one side show off the sparkling waters of the East River. There’s a kitchen to the left of the spacious sitting area, and to the right is a hallway which likely leads to the bedrooms. There’s even a small half-bath that I glimpse off the foyer. Who knew that hotel suites could have half-baths?
Then again, I come from money, so I guess I should be aware of these things. Yet somehow, I’m not, and I suppose it’s because I lived in a bubble in Wyoming. My dad coddled me, and the result is that I’m pretty clueless when it comes to real life. Well, New York is going to change that because you’ve got to be street smart and clever to survive here.