Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
But this isn’t the time to open Pandora’s box. Instead, I smile brightly.
“I’m glad you like them, but my cat’s probably starving right now, and I’ve got to get dressed and head home. Poor Apollo. Do you have any Tupperware on hand? You wouldn’t mind me putting these cookies in to give to Andrew, would you?”
Peter looks puzzled.
“Sure, I’m sure I have some boxes around, but who’s Andrew? Someone I know?”
I stare at him.
“Your desk clerk downstairs. His name is Andrew?”
Peter looks startled again.
“You made cookies for the desk clerk?”
I nod.
“Actually, for his grandmother. I was awake when he came in with the lemons, and it turns out Andrew’s mom is a regular customer of mine. Every Wednesday, Bonnie buys sugar cookies for her mother, Andrew’s grandmother. I wanted him to be able to take some to her. I hope you don’t mind.”
Peter shakes his dark head.
“Of course not, sweetheart. I love how you’re so giving and generous. I can box these up and call my car to take you home.”
I smile, shaking my head.
“Oh no, that’s not necessary. I’ll take the bus. I’m a public transit girl, anyways.”
The billionaire grins at me.
“It’s not up for discussion, sweetheart. My driver will take you home.”
I don’t like causing more work for his driver and it bugs me a little. I could easily call a taxi, but somehow, I know Peter isn’t going to budge, and that this it isn’t worth arguing about.
Getting dressed in the same clothes I wore the day before, I brace myself for the walk of shame. Or the car ride of shame, at least. I’ve never done the walk of shame before and it’s kind of exhilarating, come to think of it. I had an unexpected rendezvous with a handsome man. He may be a handsome man I don’t have a chance of keeping for the long-term, but nevertheless, even a one night stand with someone like Peter would be a feather in any girl’s cap.
The handsome billionaire is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, cookies boxed in a Shake Place to go container. He’s so gorgeous that my heart begins to pound. But then I remind myself that I need to place a wall around my heart or it’s going to get shattered into a million little pieces by this man.
“Thank you for everything, Peter,” I say as I take the cookies from him and give him a brief kiss on the cheek. I need to remember this isn’t the start of a relationship. It’s a business arrangement. I stack more bricks around my heart.
He looks at me a little oddly.
“Is everything alright, Whitney? Did I do something to upset you?”
I smile, bright and shiny.
“No, not at all. Everything is fine. I know you have a plane to catch and I have a hungry cat to feed.”
“I’ll see you when I get back then? Maybe we can talk about the shake recipes then.”
I flash him another dazzling smile.
“Yes, of course. Have a safe trip.” I leave it at that and step into the elevator. Before I reach the front desk, my phone sends me a message that five thousand dollars have been deposited into my account. I should be thrilled to get the money, and of course I am. But somehow, I’m disappointed too. I wish … well, what I wish doesn’t matter. My head again reminds my heart that this is only a business arrangement and this is what should be happening.
Andrew is still at the front desk and I hand him the box of cookies. He thanks me profusely and asks me to wait while he gets his mom on the phone. He says she will tan his hide if he doesn’t let her thank me too. It rings, and then he hands the receiver to me. I hear the crack in her voice as Bonnie tells me that I am making her mom’s week. My sour mood, caused by the crashing realization that I need to check my feelings at the door when I deal with Peter, is buoyed by this short conversation. I remind myself: I don’t need a man to make me happy as long as I have my bakery.
Apollo screams at me as I walk in the door to my apartment. The cat is not used to being left alone overnight. The stark contrast between my living space and Peter’s is a reminder of how completely different our worlds are. My cozy apartment with my yards of colorful throws and jewel tone pillows masks a rundown building with cracked plaster and scuffed floors. By contrast, Peter’s penthouse is sleek and new with shiny elevators, modern furniture, and polished granite. I guess our homes reflect our personalities. I am cozy and maybe a little cracked and scuffed, while Peter is sleek and sophisticated.