Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I’m near the end of the other side, being the least important bridesmaid. But I’m not at the very end of the table. That place is for Stephen.
Stephen.
My date.
My date who seems to like me, while I was fucking another man only moments ago.
Could I have screwed this up any more?
“I’m sorry to be gone for so long,” I say to him. “I wasn’t feeling well for a moment, and I thought I might be sick. But all I needed was to lie down for a bit.”
He smiles at me. “Don’t worry about it. Sage kept me busy.”
I raise my eyebrows at him.
“Not busy like that, silly.” He chuckles. “But we had a nice time chatting.”
Honestly, that’s wonderful. If he’s interested in Sage, I don’t want him to feel like he needs to hang around me all night. Especially since I’ve had all I can take of his conversation about Reiki and the joys of cupping.
But it would be rude to just tell him to ignore his date, right?
I have no idea what the etiquette is in this situation. I invited him here. And at the time, I wanted to invite him here. He’s nice, handsome, talented with his hands for sure. I just didn’t know that all he would talk about is holistic crap.
And…I kind of have the hots for another guy.
Which I knew when I invited him. I really hoped Stephen would help take my mind off Henry. If anything, all he’s done is make me want Henry more.
But I told Henry where to get off. If I’m just a distraction, he needs to keep his hands to himself.
Part of me regrets saying it, because I like the quickies with him. Quickies with him are better than the longest sex I’ve ever had with anyone else.
God… What might a long night of sex be like with Henry? Where we can spend hours and hours just exploring each other’s bodies, discovering what makes each other tick? I could put my mouth on him, kiss every inch of his gorgeous body.
He’s already put his mouth on me twice, and it was heaven.
I sigh. That’s not going to happen.
The servers come to our table first with the salad, which is almost identical to the one we had last night at the rehearsal dinner. Just basic greens, tomatoes, with a balsamic vinaigrette this time. Toasted walnuts and pecans instead of the pistachios and sunflower seeds.
Bryce Simpson rises and clinks on his glass. “If you all will indulge me, I’d like to offer a word of thanks before we eat.”
Murmurs of agreement follow.
Bryce bows his head and closes his eyes. “We give thanks to our creator for this gathering, for this amazing feast, and for Angie and Jason and the vows they made together today. May they have a truly happy life together.”
Short and sweet. Perfect.
I grab my salad fork and spear into some greens.
“By the way,” I say to Stephen before I bring the forkful of salad to my mouth, “everything’s organic. I checked.”
He nods. “I think Sage said last night that her mother never serves anything other than organic food.”
Now I feel like a dumbass. We did have this conversation last night. And truth be told? I didn’t check with anyone about the organics. I just didn’t want to listen to Stephen launch into another diatribe.
“Right,” I say. “I forgot.”
“It’s very important to eat organic,” he says, “because you’re not just feeding yourself. You’re feeding your future. Every bite either builds you up or breaks you down.”
My mouth is full, so I don’t have to answer. I simply nod and smile through my food.
Lord, just get me through this meal.
Get me through this night.
At least get me to the point where I can say goodbye to Stephen.
He doesn’t talk much more as we finish our salads.
Then the pièce de résistance is served.
And of course, Steel beef takes center stage.
Thick-cut ribeyes, marbled and flame-kissed, arrive on oversize platters, their juices pooling beneath a glossy herb butter. They’re flanked by crisped fingerling potatoes, tossed with rosemary and sea salt, and fire-roasted corn. It’s rustic elegance, Colorado-style.
The food is delicious. I just wish I could enjoy it more.
And I really wish Stephen and I could trade places. Since he’s sitting at the end of the table and has no one on his other side, I feel like I need to talk to him.
But the beautiful thing about Stephen is that he seems to like to hear himself talk. All I have to do is nod and agree every once in a while.
And my God, does he talk.
He swirls the water in his glass as if he’s at a Napa Valley tasting. “Another reason to eat organic is to keep toxic pesticides out of your system.”
I nod politely, stabbing my fork into a fingerling potato. “Right. Pesticides are bad.”