Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“Out?” I repeated.
“On a date.”
“A date?” I said, wondering when I had become a parrot.
“Monday?” he asked.
“Um,” I hedged. “I don’t date much.”
“Dinner,” he said. “Monday.”
I didn’t know why I gave in. “Okay.”
He looked triumphant. “Can I have your number?”
I gave it to him, and he tapped it into his phone and sent me a message. “There. Now you’ll have mine. I’ll call you tomorrow and see you on Monday.”
“Okay,” I agreed, wondering why I had said yes. He was nice enough, but I wasn’t really interested.
Was I?
Then before I could move, he stepped forward and kissed me. A fast, quick press of his mouth to mine and he stepped back. “See you then.”
I was shocked. He’d kissed me without permission. As if it were his right.
I started to speak when I heard a set of tires squealing out of a parking spot across the street, the dark truck speeding away.
“Someone’s in a hurry,” I said lightly and got in my vehicle, locking the door. I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, Chris having walked away already.
I didn’t like that he had kissed me. It made me feel odd. I would have to tell him that on Monday.
Sunday, I stayed busy, cleaning the apartment and adding the final coat of paint to the hallway. Miller and Barney wandered from place to place, both adapting to Thorne’s pet door easily. I felt strange walking through the connecting doors to his place to feed Miller, but I made sure to go directly to the kitchen and fill his bowls, then back to my place, closing the doors.
I was tired in the afternoon and lay down for a nap. My dreams in the night had been filled with hazel eyes, strong arms, and a longing I couldn’t identify.
My phone never rang, and I decided Chris had changed his mind. I wasn’t overly disappointed but a little surprised since he’d seemed so insistent.
I was in bed later that night reading when my phone chirped with a message. It was Chris, hoping tomorrow was still okay. He never said anything about not calling.
I stared at the phone, wondering if I should say something came up. It felt funny confirming a date via text. Call me old-fashioned, but he could have put forth the effort and called. With a sigh, I agreed to go, typing my message. He replied quickly, asking if I wanted him to pick me up, but I told him I would prefer to meet and he suggested the bar.
It was a central location, easy to get to, and no doubt a short walk from wherever he was taking me, so I agreed to meet him at seven.
He didn’t reply, and I stared at my screen, still unsure. He was a nice enough guy, but I didn’t feel anything for him, other than the fact that he was amusing. Yet a few times, his humor had a cutting edge I didn’t like. And he didn’t come across as overly smart, but I could be wrong. Something told me I wasn’t, though.
Then I scolded myself. We hadn’t been alone one-on-one yet. Maybe he was a quiet intellect. I was being silly, judging him on a few jokes. He had a steady job and, aside from the unwelcome kiss, had been decent.
He wasn’t hot and cold. Angry one minute, teasing the next. Making arbitrary rules. Deserting me in a hallway after getting me worked up. He was a simple guy.
And simple was good.
Besides, it was just dinner.
I pulled into the parking lot at five after seven, hopping out of my SUV. Chris was already there, not looking pleased. “You’re late.”
“Five minutes.”
“I don’t like tardiness.”
I frowned. This wasn’t starting off well. “I’m sorry.”
He crossed his arms, frowning. “I’m hungry. I missed lunch.”
I nodded in understanding. “Hangry. I get it. Let’s drive wherever we’re going and get you fed.”
He looked confused. “We’re having supper here.”
“The bar?”
“Yeah. Monday is pasta night. My favorite. I come here every Monday.”
I felt a little disappointed at his lack of planning. But I plastered on a smile and followed him into the bar. We headed to a booth, and he ordered a beer. I asked for water. As soon as the drinks were on the table, he told the waitress we wanted two specials and added that he was starving. “Put a rush on that okay, woman?” he asked and smacked her butt as she went by. “Thanks.”
I stared at him. “That was inappropriate.”
He frowned. “I know Brittany well.”
I took a sip of water, tamping down my temper. “Not only that—maybe I didn’t want pasta.”
“It’s pasta night,” he grumbled.
There was an uncomfortable silence. I cleared my throat. “Did you come straight from work?”
“No. I went home and got ready. Made an effort.” His gaze flickered over me. “More than I could say for you.”