Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
“You made chicken korma?”
I smiled wryly. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
Bernie had been shocked when I only ordered one small sample from Wade’s favorite Indian restaurant. I’d wanted to know if the recipe differed too much from mine and, since it didn’t, we stopped at the store so I could get what I needed to fix it myself. According to her, he’d ordered it once a month from the same place, and it was a favorite.
“I felt like celebrating.” I took a breath and let it out slowly, still getting a charge from saying this out loud. “I sent the book to my publisher today.”
In an instant the big man was in front of me, lifting me off my feet and hugging me tightly while I laughed in delight. “August, that’s fantastic news. You’re amazing. I can’t wait to buy it and add it to my collection.”
I burrowed my face into his neck, inhaling the scent of him and soaking in the feel of his strong arms around me. His praise. This was what I’d been looking forward to all day. Sharing my news with him.
He put me down too soon for my liking and took a step back, his smile still in place. “Why would Chick make other plans tonight? You should call Bernie and your sister and join him. Pop open some champagne with your friends and celebrate.”
He didn’t include himself on the guest list. Another clue that something was off.
“We already had lunch,” I told him. “And went shopping, with a detour to a hair salon. It was a whole day.”
“You do look good.” He gave me another shiver-inducing once-over. “Too good to be stuck in the house.”
With me. He hadn’t said it out loud, but I heard it anyway.
“I wanted to have dinner with you, Wade. I want to celebrate with you.”
For a moment, I was afraid he was going to come up with an excuse. Some emergency back at the garage or another dinner with Kingston, whom I’d heard he was spending most of his time with lately.
Wade rubbed his palms down his jeans and nodded. “I do love korma. And I wouldn’t want you celebrating alone.”
Thank you, Bernie.
“I feel like I should have brought flowers or something.” He looked down at himself and grimaced. “Or maybe changed for the occasion.”
I hadn’t wanted to give him a chance to say no. “You already got me a Congratulations balloon back in August, so you’re ahead of the game. You look great, and it’s just dinner at home.”
Why were we so awkward again?
He followed me into the kitchen, and I felt his gaze like a brand on my back. “You look better than great. Your hair is… What’s going on in here?”
I’d set out plates, flowers and more candles in the breakfast nook. “I thought it might be better than eating in the living room.”
“Oh.”
I took a calming breath. I was going all out and it was obvious. Subtlety was not my jam.
“You put a lot of work into this.”
I took the naan out of the warming tray, set them on their own platter and took them to the table. Then I snagged the oven mitts and carried the bowls of korma and basmati rice over as well. “Only a bit. This naan is from the store because I didn’t want to make a mess. But the rest? I thought some effort might be nice for a change. We haven’t spent much time together when we weren’t both exhausted lately. And when we eat together, it’s always casual. A pizza or a burger on the go. I wanted to change that.”
I wanted to change more than that. If he did.
“Well, you’ve done it, because this feels like we’re at a restaurant. You’re going to spoil me.”
“He’s used to taking care of people. It’s all he ever does. It throws him off when you turn the tables on him, but it’s good for him. He deserves to be pampered once in a while.”
He’d been doing for me since he rented the apartment. All the work on the house, the yard and the car. The job. Looking after me when I was tipsy. I’d soaked it all up like a sponge, because in my previous relationships, caretaking was my job. So far, he’d only seen me when I could barely take care of myself. Things were different now.
He slid into the curved seat, looking so uncertain I almost smiled. “Beer, soda or water?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine.”
I grabbed two beer bottles and a water like the pro server I now was and set them on the table as I sat across from him. “Let’s toast.”
He immediately lifted his bottle and tipped it toward mine. “To finishing your book.”
“Both my books.” When his eyes widened, I nodded. “Yup. It looks like I’m picking a new pen name and self-publishing the other.”