Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“Mandy?”
I know that voice. It’s deep and familiar, but even if I didn’t, it would be the name that clued me in. My panic dissolves in a single breath. I lift my eyes slowly and stare into Will’s dark chocolate ones. For a second, I forget how to speak. Or breathe. Or exist like a normal human being.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his gaze sweeping over me, my face, my arms, down to my heels, like he’s checking for damage. The concern in his expression does something strange and warm in my chest. Something I can’t think about right now.
“Y-Yeah,” I stammer, mentally cursing my tongue for betraying me. “I’m good.” I straighten to my full height, suddenly aware of how close we are. How his hands are still on me. He seems to notice at the same time I do, because he drops them and takes a small step back. I miss the warmth immediately.
“Sorry.” I also take a small step back, as if putting space between us will make my brain start to fully function once again.
His brow furrows. “Are you meeting someone?” he asks, glancing around the entrance as if expecting a date to materialize out of thin air.
My stomach flips. Why does that question feel loaded?
“Uh, no,” I say too quickly. Smooth, Amanda. Real smooth. “I was going to eat here. But then I decided eating alone wasn’t really… appealing. So, I was leaving. And I wasn’t watching where I was going.” I gesture vaguely between us. “Clearly.”
I move to step around him, desperate to escape before I say anything else humiliating, but his arm shoots out, blocking my path. His palm lands against my stomach. Not roughly. Not possessively. Just there, anchoring me in place. I freeze. Hell, I’m not even sure if I’m breathing.
The moment narrows to the heat of his hand seeping through the thin fabric of my dress. My breath catches in my throat as our eyes lock. There’s something in his gaze, something soft, yet I can’t seem to name it in my current state.
“Stay,” he murmurs.
The word slides over my skin like a touch. One word. Four letters that feel monumental in some way, but I can’t explain how or why.
“Have dinner with me.”
The restaurant door swings open behind us, a chorus of voices and laughter filtering into the small space at the hostess station. Without breaking eye contact, he wraps his arm fully around my waist and gently guides me closer so people can pass.
He’s warm and solid, and my palms land on his chest, but I’m not sure if it’s to pull him closer or keep space between us. I can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. The heat radiating from him. The faint scent of his cologne, something clean, woodsy, and familiar.
“Oh, um, I don’t want to intrude,” I manage, though my voice comes out breathless and uncertain. My brain is screaming at me to run. To escape before I embarrass myself further. Before he sees exactly how much this proximity affects me.
He’s my best friend’s dad.
This man couldn’t be more off-limits, but for some reason, my body doesn’t seem to care about that. In this moment, he’s just a man, one who smells incredible, with kind brown eyes and his firm body pressed to mine. I should step away from him, put some much-needed distance between us, but my feet don’t move.
Because the truth is… I don’t want to leave.
Not anymore.
“Come on, Mandy.” He smiles, and heat rushes to my core. I try my hardest not to outwardly show my body’s reaction to him. “You’re not going to make me eat alone, are you?”
“You’re alone?” I ask. I thought for sure he was here for a date or with the other higher-ups from the Rampage, celebrating a successful draft. Sure, that was two weeks ago, but still, that’s where my mind took me.
He shakes his head. “Not anymore. I have you.”
“A-Are you sure?”
“Welcome, how many in your party?” the hostess asks.
Will keeps his arm woven tightly around my waist, but slowly moves us forward. I follow without complaint. “Two, please.” He smiles kindly.
“Of course. Right this way.” She grabs two menus, some wrapped silverware, and motions for us to follow her.
Will moves his hand to the small of my back, and then, we’re on the move. He stays right behind me, his hand a solid presence, the heat of his palm seeping through the thin fabric of my dress. When we reach the booth, he guides me to sit before sliding into the space across from me and smiling.
“Your server will be right with you,” the hostess says, before turning to head back to her post.
“Where is Miss Mia tonight?” Will asks, picking up his menu.
“Bellamy called and said Coral demanded a sleepover. I didn’t have a good excuse to say no, other than losing my mind being in my condo all alone. So, I ventured out for dinner, and yeah, you saw how that turned out.” I laugh nervously.