Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Bad day?” I can’t help but ask. When I sat down, I intended to enjoy a beer and keep to myself, but this beauty just changed that. She’s immediately captured my attention in her coral flowing dress, big brown eyes, and dark brown hair that looks smooth like silk.
“If you count having to attend the wedding from hell a bad day, then yeah. The worst,” she says, taking another hefty pull of her drink. She smacks her lips before licking a small drop of her fruity drink that lingers on her bottom lip.
I catch the bartender’s attention and point toward her drink, lifting my beer to let him know to bring us both another. “Want to talk about it?” I ask. Why? I have no fucking idea. I’m not Landry—I don’t thrive on the gossip—but this gorgeous girl seems like she needs to get something off her chest, and I’m here for whatever passes those full, luscious lips.
“Depends, do you need a nap?”
“What?” I ask, furrowing my brow.
“I’m sure you have better things to do, looking all snazzy tonight, than listen to me whine and put you to sleep.”
I chuckle. “Try me.”
The bartender delivers our fresh drinks. She downs the remainder of her first and pulls the second one close.
“One of my college sorority sisters got married today. There were twelve bridesmaids. Twelve!” She shakes her head and takes another drink. “Anyway, we’re not close. We never really were. She’s one of those mean-girl controlling types, and everything has to be her way or the highway.”
“Bridezilla,” I mutter.
“Yes!” She points a manicured finger at me. “Exactly that. Wear your hair like this, not too much makeup, that’s not enough makeup, you dance to this song, but leave enough space on the dance floor so that we’re the focal point,” she rattles off in a high-pitched tone. “I’m a terrible friend, because I snuck out, and to be honest, I don’t want to go back.”
“Well, look at it this way. Now you know how not to be when you get married,” I say, my eyes glancing down at her bare ring finger.
She scoffs. “You have to be dating to even consider marriage, and I’m single as a Pringle,” she says, taking another long pull of her drink. “What about you? Wife? Kids?”
“Nope. Also single as a Pringle,” I say, lifting my beer to my lips to hide my smile.
“Is there a reason?” she asks.
“That I’m single?”
“Yeah.”
I shrug. “I guess I just haven’t found the person I want to spend forever with. I won’t settle. She’d have to be my dream girl.”
“Oh, tell me more.” She turns to face me. In this little private corner of the bar, the move feels intimate.
I ignore her request for more and toss her words back at her. “What about you? Is there a reason?”
“Mostly because all men are jerks.”
“Hey now.” I place my hand over my heart as if she’s offended me.
“Fine, present company excluded, but the jury is still out.” She gives me a look that says she’s not convinced that I’ll prove her otherwise.
“Sounds like you’ve had your heart broken.”
“Sure, if you count your dad loving his job more than you, and walking out on me and my mom, then yeah, you could say that.”
“Damn,” I mutter. “I hate that for you.”
“Yeah, I hate it for me, too. Other than that, there have been a few relationships. Nothing that ever lasted. What about you?”
“No serious relationships. I date here and there,” I admit.
“So, no dream girl. Tell me what the requirements are.”
I take a long pull of my beer and think about her question instead of avoiding it this time. “She’s someone who’s not afraid to stand up to me and for what she believes in. She’s independent, yet still needs and wants me around. She understands that my career sometimes requires me to travel, so she’d have to trust me, and I her. Her idea of a good time is spending time with friends, and just being—real.”
“Real as in what? Boobs? Hair? Lips?” she asks, her lips quirking in a smile.
“All of it. But mostly, I want her to be real with me. I want someone who’s going to order a steak and devour it at dinner if that’s what she wants. If she wants dessert, I want her to eat that, too, and enjoy it. Life is too short to pretend or worry about social standards. I want her to be with me for me. Not for my career, or who I know, or what either of those things might bring her. Just me. Just Reid.”
“Wow. Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that.” Her eyes sparkle with something I can’t name.
“What about you?”
Just as I did, she takes a drink and gives her answer careful thought. “I want to be the center of his world. I know careers are important, but I watched my father ruin my parents’ marriage. He was never willing to put her first. I want to be real, too. I never want to have to question where I stand, and I want to eat the damn steak, and the dessert.” She smiles, and those big brown eyes light up the room. “I want to find my someone. I want to know that if my day was good, we’re going to celebrate it together, and if it’s bad, I want to know that I can count on him to lend me his ear and his shoulder to pick me up when I’m feeling down, and I’ll do the same for him. I want someone who will call me on my shit, and someone who will hold me in their arms every night.” She takes another quick sip of her drink. “Is that too much to ask for, Reid? Tell me, I can take it.”