Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
He chuckled, not offended in the least that I’d lumped getting to know him in with how I would get to know a new venture. “Not in the slightest.”
The cheeky grin he flashed at me had me imagining doing wicked things to him as he continued to tease me. “I’m flattered that I’m on the same level of importance as Leashes & Lace.”
Oh, he was more important than that, but it seemed too soon to confess it.
“The same level of importance and not nearly as much drama. So consider yourself highly rated.” As he laughed, I decided this was the perfect lead-in to something I’d been curious about. “Okay, but now it’s your turn. What do you do for a living? I can’t remember anyone saying.”
He winced and sighed and shook his head.
So, nearly as much drama as L and L.
I managed to keep my smirk in check as he huffed and puffed, finally getting all his emotion out. “I’m going to start by saying I have an art history degree but a justifiable one.”
I would not laugh.
I would not laugh.
I would not laugh.
Swallowing, I nodded slowly. “I bet that was an interesting major.”
He scowled at me, shaking his finger. “I saw that smirk.”
Maybe.
Coughing, I shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Huffing again, he sighed and leaned back. “So I’ve worked at a gym, cold calling for surveys, a nutrition store, and my last job was as a phone rep for a cable company.”
Wincing, I grasped for a somewhat related job idea. “There has to be something in your field. What were you picturing when you were getting your degree?”
I was trying to be helpful, but I knew I’d stepped in something when his face fell. “My parents worked at a small museum and had a side business buying antiques. I was supposed to go into business with them.”
But…
“What happened, pup?” The nickname slipped out, but when he smiled, I didn’t feel bad about it.
“They were traveling in Asia on a long vacation and buying trip when their plane went down. It was…” He took a breath, looking as if he were pushing back the memories as he sat up straighter. “I finished the program and packed up the house, but after that, I just couldn’t…so I sold the house and put everything of value or that was memorable into storage and spent the past few years figuring out what I’m going to do next.”
He shrugged, clearly feeling bad that he hadn’t managed to figure it out yet. “I’ll get there.”
“There’s no rush.” I couldn’t imagine how terrible that had been for him. “I’m asking this just because I’m a nosy Dom and I’m good with money management, but you’re okay financially, right?”
He wasn’t offended, thankfully, just letting out a soft laugh and smiling like I was behaving just as he’d predicted. “They were good with stuff like insurance, so yeah, I don’t have to worry but work keeps me from going insane.”
Before I could respond, his face scrunched up and he shrugged. “Okay, most of the time work keeps me sane but the survey job was weird. Oh, and for about five minutes I was training to be a clown.”
He barely paused before looking cutely sheepish. “I should also probably admit that when I couldn’t get time off at the cable company, I might’ve quit…very dramatically.”
I had no idea what to say to any of that.
A clown?
“So, art history, huh?” That had him laughing again, the sadness in his eyes fading completely. “What does that major actually entail?”
Relaxing back in his seat, he shrugged. “It basically means I can talk to you about weird periods in art most people really don’t like, and I can admire, and identify, the Chippendale furniture you have in your guest room. But, god, Cohen, in your guest room? What if someone sets a water glass on it?”
Wincing, I shrugged. “I don’t ever have anyone stay over. It’s never come up and it seemed safer than putting it in my living room.”
And it was pretty.
So I had to buy it.
Bishop sighed, shaking his head like I was beyond ridiculous.
It was cute.
That didn’t mean I was going to admit he was right to be frustrated with me, though. “I have some paintings in a closet you might find interesting.”
Because they were old and ugly.
Give me dogs playing poker or a pretty oceanscape any day.
His eyebrows went up and he went very still. “What kind of paintings? And honestly, I really can’t tell if this is a way to get me back to your place or a legit offer to see something interesting.”
Both.
Giving him a long stare while I imagined all the wicked things I wanted to do to him, I let the silence drag out until he shivered…then I smiled. “Do I need an excuse to get you back to my place?”