Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“Great.” I exhale and then make my way upstairs to just pack a suit and a couple of other things to tide me over. When I walk back downstairs, he’s waiting at the door.
“We have a contractor who can pass by tomorrow late morning, early afternoon,” he tells me. “We’ll get a clear picture then.”
“Sounds good,” I say, grabbing my bag and heading out with him. I sit in my driveway and pull up the closest hotel to me and see if I can book a room. The only available room I can find is right near the airport. I book the room and check in online, bypassing the whole front desk. When I get inside, I dump my bag on the bed and then turn back around and head down to the hotel bar.
The whole place is packed when I step in, and the hostess looks at me. “Welcome.”
“For one,” I say, putting my hands in my pockets and she looks around.
“I don’t have any tables available,” she states as she does something on the iPad. “But there is a place at the bar,” she says. “You can order food there too.”
“That’s fine,” I reply as I follow her through the restaurant and pull out the tall barstool. I sit down and the bartender comes over.
“What can I get you?” he asks me and puts his hand on the bar top.
“I’ll have a whiskey on the rocks,” I order and he turns to walk away. I look down at the menu when the empty stool beside me is pulled out.
“Is this seat taken?” I hear a sweet voice and I look over and see a woman’s side profile. Her black hair is pinned back in a loose updo, a soft curl escaping the clip at the back of her head. When she turns completely, facing me, I swear I stop breathing. Her blue-gray eyes look into mine and I can say, without a doubt, she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. “Is it taken?” she asks me again.
I shake my head. “No,” I tell her, “not by me anyway.” She looks at the girl on the other side of the stool.
“Is this seat taken?” The girl shakes her head and turns back to the conversation she’s having with the person next to her.
“Perfect,” she says, sitting on the stool and putting her purse down on her side. She puts her hand on the bar and crosses her legs. I turn to face the menu and try not to think of the woman who is beside me. The bartender comes over and places my drink on a coaster then turns his smile toward the beauty beside me.
“Hi,” he greets her.
“Hi,” she says breathlessly as she puts her phone down. “Can I get something to eat at the bar?” she asks him.
“For you,” he says, “we’ll make it happen.” I about roll my eyes and watch him flirt with her.
“Aren’t you the sweetest?” She laughs. “Can I have a menu?”
“Coming right up,” he says to her and then instead of minding my own business like I should be, I hand her mine.
“You can have mine,” I tell her. “I already know what I’m having.”
“Thank you.” She takes the menu from me and then looks down at it while her phone buzzes on the bar. She ignores it as she reads the menu, and it goes off about fifteen more times.
The bartender comes back with a menu, and I see he even undid another button on his black shirt and rolled up his sleeves. “Here you go, gorgeous.” He hands her the menu, and she takes it and turns her smile toward me.
“It’s only right,” she tells me, “that you take this one.”
I grab it from her and then she turns her face back to the bartender. “Can I have a glass of wine, please? A pinot.” She puts the menu in her hand on her lap and leans in. “A big one.”
“Of course.” He nods and turns to walk away from her.
“That kind of day?” I ask her, instead of shutting the fuck up and minding my own fucking business.
“Considering I just spent the last four hours sitting on a plane on the runway, with no air-conditioning, and then being told the flight is cancelled until tomorrow.” She shrugs. “It’s the least I deserve.” I nod at her and take a sip of my own drink. “Was your flight cancelled also?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Came home to a busted pipe and a flooded house.”
“Okay, fine.” She rolls her eyes. “Your day is suckier than my day.” I can’t help but laugh when she says that. “But if you think about it,” she turns to face me and her oversized sweater falls off her shoulder and to the middle of her arm, showing me her white tank top that swoops low in the front and molds to her chest, “I bet tomorrow will be better.”