Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Gavin scowls. “Because then I’d have to cook for you clowns every night.”
Before I can ask why, Rhys meets my gaze and explains: “Gavin believes in eating the same thing when you’re on a streak. We were on a sushi streak the night of the cat rescue.”
“How fortuitous for the fish-loving Frances Furbottom,” I say, then make a mental note to show them the pictures of her that my dad sent me. My cat’s been living the spoiled life with her granddad all right. I’m surprised he hasn’t built her a canopy bed. I take another bite of the bowl, and join Hollis in the chorus of praise for the chef. “This is as good as I predicted, Gavin. No, it’s better. And I love bowls.”
“I know,” Gavin says, like a cat with a mouth full of canaries.
“How’d you know that?” Rhys asks, tilting his head.
Gavin meets Rhys’s inquisitive gaze straight on. “It says so in her bio.” Gavin clears his throat. “Briar Delaney has been teaching a blend of yoga, Pilates, and flexibility since college where she studied exercise science. She loves playlists, bowls, and her rescue pets. And she believes in the power of a good pair of boots.”
Wow…he memorized my bio.
Hollis whistles in appreciation. “Look at you. Showing us up.”
Rhys slow claps. “Someone can read.”
I lift a glass of champagne. “To Gavin’s cooking. Rhys’s planning, and Hollis’s…” I take a beat, since I’ve got a secret with Hollis and I don’t want to make it too obvious to the others as I pick his toast. “Hollis’s ears. He’s a very good listener.” That earns me a flirty and dirty grin from the guy across from me. “Let’s toast to a good week,” I add.
All at once, the four of us clink glasses and say, “To a good week.”
I take a sip of the bubbly. It’s fresh and tingly on my tongue and it’s chased by a memory of the last class of mine that Rhys came to in the city. We talked after and I happened to mention that champagne was my favorite. I look at the glass, then steal a glance at the handsome Brit. His gaze lands on my flute, then rises…to my mouth.
My skin tingles everywhere. He bought this champagne…for me. Gavin made bowls…for me. Hollis left a gift…for me.
All throughout the rest of the meal, my thoughts return to the contest. To the prize money Steven is offering. To the three men I’m sharing a house with. My mind is a pinball game, the silver ball slamming into flippers, bumpers, ramps. Then, it lights up.
Maybe it’s the champagne. Possibly it’s the gifts. It could be the sweet lure of revenge. Or perhaps it’s the way they treat me like a very special guest. Whatever it is, it’s unlocked me. And I know exactly how I can win that prize money.
I lift my fork and tap it gently against the flute. Three pairs of eyes turn to me and I waste no time. “So my ex’s site is offering a contest for a female columnist on what makes for a great boyfriend, and I want to enter. Anonymously. An independent firm picks the winners, so he won’t know it’s me, even though the idea for the contest was one I gave him. The prize is ten thousand dollars and it would be enough to help me launch my yoga and flexibility app.” I pause, then dive off the cliff. “The only thing is—I really need someone to run my ideas past. Like to discuss them, vet them, make sure they seem like things a guy might actually do if he truly wanted to impress a girl.”
Rhys’s hand shoots up. “We’ll help you,” he says, just like he did with the cat rescue.
I wasn’t expecting that kind of speed, but I love it. “You will? Can we do it this week? It just seems practical since we’re all here.”
“Let me check my schedule. Ah yes, seems I can make myself available this week,” Rhys says with a grin—one that makes me smile right back. “I’m a great fucking boyfriend. In fact, I can walk you to your yoga workshop tomorrow. That’s something a great boyfriend would do, don’t you think?”
I can picture it clearly, the two of us, heading into town together in the morning. “Yes, I do,” I say, my cheeks going warm.
“Good. We can grab a cuppa if you want afterward too. Talk about your day,” he adds, and his confidence is like a zap of electricity down my body. He’s a man who knows what he wants. Who’s unafraid to say it. Who puts himself out there.
In front of me and in front of his friends.
I feel a little shivery all over, almost like we’re the only ones here. Rhys certainly looks at me that way. I flash back to the text messages the four of us exchanged last week, when they teased him about how often he goes to my classes. Is this something he’s been wanting for a while?