Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Anything’s fine. Surprise me.
Adrian
Will you at least tell me where we’re going on this date so I can make an informed decision? What if I show up naked?
That would definitely be surprising considering your sensitivity to cold and tonight’s expected low temps, but I can’t say I’d be upset about it.
I set the phone aside and tried to focus on browning the meat, but it was hard now that I had a certain image in my head.
“You’d better save the leftovers,” Maya said, coming up behind me and peering over my shoulder. “Because that smells amazing.”
“You’re welcome to stay and join us,” I said. “The point of the date is a comfortable night in. Having annoying siblings around is part of that experience sometimes.”
Her grunt of annoyance was expected and only made me smile more. “I have my own date to go on, thank you very much.”
I spun around and pinned her with a glare. “With whom? And why am I just finding out about this?”
Maya’s face lit up with her laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. Your boyfriend gets to sleep over, and I’m not even allowed to go to dinner and a movie with someone?”
“You didn’t answer the question. Also, you’re seventeen.”
She rolled her eyes. “For six more weeks. And it’s Tomás. We’re going to see The Frostbite Directive.”
“That sounds ridiculous,” I muttered, turning back to the meat sizzling in the pan. “But if it’s just Tomás, that’s fine.”
He was a good kid who worked part-time for Lennon at the ranch. He and Maya had been friends forever.
“I’ll remember you said that,” she singsonged as she danced toward the door, grabbing her coat from the hook before flitting out into the darkened night.
I was too distracted by my nerves to do more than throw her a wave over my shoulder and tell her to make good choices.
When was the last time I’d been this nervous about anything? When was the last time someone’s opinion had mattered this much?
The truth was, I’d never tried to impress anyone the way I wanted to impress Adrian.
With Michael, things had been easy from the start—we’d fallen into a comfortable routine without much effort. And if I were being totally honest, we’d fallen out of our relationship the same way.
This was different. More important. I wanted Adrian to see a side of me I didn’t show most people. I wanted him to know he was worth any amount of time and effort. I wanted to show him without words how I felt about him.
Which was a tall order, even for my mom’s amazing lasagna.
I finished the sauce and drained the noodles before assembling the lasagna and sliding it into the oven. After making the salad and opening a bottle of red wine to breathe, I glanced at my handiwork. In addition to the fairy lights I’d strung around the windows, candles flickered on every surface that wouldn’t constitute a fire hazard, and I’d even dragged out Mom’s good dishes—the ones we only used for special occasions.
The coffee table was set with mismatched napkins, and the quilt Adrian had admired the first time he’d been here was now folded neatly over the back of the couch, ready for snuggling later. I’d even cued up Die Hard on the television so I could educate him on the finest Christmas movie ever made.
Everything was perfect… or as perfect as I could make it in a small apartment above a hardware store.
So why did I feel like I was about to jump out of my skin?
A knock at the door interrupted my spiraling anxiety. I wiped my hands on a dish towel, took a deep breath, and opened the door to find Adrian Hayes in matching flannel pajama pants and top sticking out from under my old hardware store hoodie.
He was also wearing slippers. Actual slippers.
His hair was artfully mussed, like he’d run his fingers through it just enough to look effortlessly attractive, and his cheeks were pink from the cold. He looked comfortable and relaxed and absolutely fucking gorgeous.
“Perfect,” I said aloud, unable to keep the grin off my face.
Adrian raised an eyebrow. “You have to be kidding. No restaurant’s going to allow me in pajamas. I’m only wearing this to prove a point. You need to tell me what to wear. I brought options.”
“Who said anything about a restaurant?” I stepped aside to let him in, catching the scent of his cologne mixed with the crisp winter air.
He stopped just inside the door, taking in the fairy lights and candles and the smell of garlic and herbs wafting from the kitchen. Something soft crossed his face, surprise giving way to something warmer.
“Maddox,” he said quietly. “This is…”
“Dinner,” I finished, suddenly self-conscious. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” he replied, but he was looking at me instead of toward the kitchen, and the heat in his eyes had nothing to do with food.