Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
She rolls her eyes, my line so cheesy it probably tastes like Parmesan, but the sweetest hint of pink blushes her cheeks.
“What?” I question, acting clueless. “A man is supposed to compliment his pretty lady when he’s taking her out.”
“His lady?” she questions back, and I just waggle my brows.
“I’m manifesting, baby.”
She giggles at that, but it’s still a little shy, a little hesitant, and I reach out to gently take her hand into mine.
“I’m not lying, though, Hannah,” I say, my voice serious in the exact way it should be to convey my truth. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she answers, her cheeks flushing deeper as she clears her throat.
“Hey,” I murmur, squeezing her hand. “There’s no need to be nervous with me, okay?”
She glances at me, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But aren’t all first dates a little nerve-racking?”
“Hannah, you don’t have to hold back or feel nervous with me. I’d say we’ve been through more than enough together.” I wink. “Or do I need to remind you of some of the CMA calls we’ve sat through?”
“Oh Lordy.” She snorts, her lips twitching at the corners. “Yeah. Don’t do that.”
“But maybe I should . . .” I tease, grinning. “I mean, the toenail guy? Or the one who wanted you to pretend to be an alien queen?”
Her laugh bounces around in the car, bright and genuine, and my chest feels like it’s soaring. There she is. My Hannah. Relaxed. Comfortable. Herself.
“Okay, okay,” she relents, shaking her head. “How about we leave the alien dude in the past, please. Pretty sure I just got over my nightmares.”
“Fine.” I lean in a little closer, grinning. “But I’m serious, Hannah. Whatever you’re thinking or feeling, I want to know. No filters.”
“Okay,” she says, her cheeks still pink but her eyes holding a playful spark.
“Now that we got that settled”—I squeeze her hand gently—“is there anything you want to tell me? About how I look tonight, perhaps?”
She narrows her eyes but can’t hide her smile. “What do you want me to say, Dom?”
“I don’t know. Something about how ruggedly handsome I am. Or maybe how sexy my cowboy hat will look on me when I put it on. You know, just some adjectives.”
“Adjectives?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “You know, handsome, sexy, take-your-breath-away good-looking, masculine, rugged, stunning, alluring . . . just something simple like that.”
“Something simple like that?” She cackles, but then she schools her face into neutrality. “Dominic, you look . . . nice tonight.”
“Nice?” I furrow my brow. “Nice?”
“Yeah, nice.” She nods, her mouth kicking up into a playful smile. “I’m really digging the whole jeans and white T-shirt thing you’ve got going on. It’s all very nice.” Her tone is 100 percent teasing, and it sends a thrill through me. Seeing her like this—comfortable enough to joke back—feels like a victory.
I eye her knowingly, and a giggle escapes her lips.
She also removes her hand from mine to slap me playfully on the arm. “Dom, you and I both know that you know you look good. Really good. So good, in fact, if I recall, I requested your presence in my bed the other night.” Her cheeks flush pink again, but her eyes never leave mine.
“Okay,” I acquiesce. “You do bring up a valid point. I guess I’ll let the ‘nice’ thing slide.”
“Good plan.”
“Now, it’s time to discuss the details of our date.” I reach out to squeeze her thigh. “You have two options to choose from.”
She quirks a brow, but I keep going.
“Option A is a romantic evening at a fancy restaurant, where I will wine and dine you with a six-course meal.”
“And option B?”
“Wings, beer, and bull riding.”
She grins. “I’ll take option B.”
“You want beer and bull riding in a bar instead of wine and romance?”
“Uh-huh.” She nods. “I need to see if the rugged, masculine, alluring man taking me out can last eight seconds on a bull.”
“Oh, hell yeah.” I reach behind us to grab my well-worn cowboy hat from the back seat, sliding it over my head. “Game on, baby.”
Instantly, she bursts into laughter. “Looks like you came prepared.”
“Hannah, I’m always prepared.” I wink at her and put the engine in drive. “But more importantly, I’m always up for a challenge.”
The sound of her laughter fills the car again, and as I drive toward our destination, I can’t help but think this might just be the best night of my life.
32
Hannah
10:00 p.m.
“Okay, Hannah, it’s time to put your money where your pretty little mouth is,” Dom says as a waitress takes away our empty baskets of chicken wings and fries and slides two fresh pints of beer in front of us.
This is only our second beer of the night, but the fact that I don’t usually drink at all means the first beer already has me feeling light and loose—all the things that make alcohol a nice companion on a first date—and this one is sure to push me over the edge into wanton, predatory territory.