Not About Love (This Love Book 2) Read Free

“it” boy.
    That wasn’t all he was famous for. Jackson Boyd Rivers was also a businessman. He owned three CrossFit gyms in New York, and his social media presence had helped his business boom.
    It was clear Lou was proud of his brother, but he wasn’t one to stroke his ego. Unfortunately, everyone else was. Lou’s friends had done nothing but praise him all night. Sure, he was accomplished, but there was no need to fawn over him like that. I might have rolled my eyes once or twice.
    To make things worse, he was damn fine—like impossibly good-looking.
    Jackson Boyd was a fine specimen of a man. He was built . He had a handsome face and a sculpted body—it looked like he worked really hard on it, I had to give him that. He looked as if Michelangelo’s David and The Rock had a kid together and then that kid had grown up to be a bearded hipster with magnificent hair and bedroom eyes.
    I was trying , really trying to be indifferent to him. He honestly didn’t sound like that much of a jerk—a little vain, maybe, but I didn’t know him at all. How could I judge him? I didn’t doubt he was accomplished, but I had always been skeptical of people who were the recipients of constant flattery. Copious amounts of compliments could not be good for anyone’s ego. I could see how easily you would lose perception of reality.
    It happened to celebrities all the time.
    The people we were out with were not even his close friends, but they were all over him —especially the women in the group, which made the whole situation even more uncomfortable. Maybe I was being too judgmental of Boyd. Maybe he wasn’t a pompous ass at all. Maybe he was a nice guy, but I had nothing to base my opinion on. We had only exchanged monosyllables. I glanced his way one more time as he politely turned down a brunette who asked him to dance.
    Hmm. Strange. She was a beautiful girl and looked like she could have been his type: long, wavy, chestnut brown hair, perfect face, perfect makeup, pouty lips, perky breasts, small waist, and an ass that looked like a replica of a certain reality TV star. Her lips turned into a frown as she said goodbye. I saw him stare at her ass as she left. He turned around and caught me staring at him. I looked down, embarrassed, and searched for my phone. I looked at the screen to see what time it was.
    Five minutes until midnight. Time to go, Cinderella. It was time for my subtle exit. I was going to excuse myself and just leave the place. With the mayhem that was about to happen, no one would even realize I was gone.
    “Where are you going?” Boyd asked, startling me with the deep timbre of his voice. Okay, maybe I wasn’t being so subtle.
    “Um, I’m going to the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”
    His eyes met mine, dark and serious, and he gave me a nod.
    He was so intense. I wondered why. Was that a hipster thing?
    For a second, I thought he was going to call my bluff. I needed to move fast. I excused myself and walked away. With the exception of Boyd and a couple sitting next to me, no one else heard me or even glanced my way. I adjusted the strap of my purse across my neck and made my way through the crowd.
    As I looked for the exit, I realized maybe I was being too impulsive. Maybe I didn’t need to leave. Surely there would be a gentleman willing to kiss me, right? I hated the fact that I was behaving so childishly, but there was nothing more depressing than watching everyone around you kiss and hug during Auld Lang Syne while you stood all by your lonesome. For a moment, I almost wished I were in Amsterdam. At least there I’d be with my real friends.
    I looked around me, scanning the crowd and weighing my options. Maybe I could find a random, mysterious gentleman…but after further inspection, I decided to abort that plan.
    Mysterious New Year’s Eve midnight kisser? Forget that. I was completely out of options. The Sahara Desert might have had more suitable candidates. The men around me were