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)
Tonight, sitting across from me in the dim lighting of the restaurant, she’s not my daughter’s best friend. She’s a beautiful and intoxicating woman, and the air between us is electric. I know she can feel it from the soft flush of her cheeks. I’m damn lucky to be here, sitting across from her, sharing this meal, sharing this time.
The truth is, with each new interaction, that spark grows a little brighter. I easily forget that my connection with her started with my daughter. I’m able to look past the fact that she’s damn near twenty years younger than me.
All I see is Mandy.
Mandy and the way her smile lights up her eyes, the way her laugh lingers, the way her big green eyes sparkle when she talks about her daughter, even the way she leans in when she’s invested in whatever story she’s telling me. Everything about this woman pulls me in deeper. It feels easy and natural, but it’s dangerous because I know she’s not someone I can pursue.
It figures the first woman to light my soul on fire and garner my attention for more than a couple of hours is the one I can never have.
“Can I get you anything else?” Todd, our waiter, asks. “Did you leave room for dessert?” he asks Amanda, smiling.
“No, thank you. It was delicious,” she says, returning his smile.
I clear my throat loudly, pulling Todd’s attention from her to me, and hand him my credit card. He was flirting with her, and I’m sitting right here. Sure, she’s not mine, but this asshole doesn’t know that.
“Oh, I can pay for mine. Can we sp—” she starts, but I wave Todd off. He smirks and disappears with my card. “Will,” Amanda scolds me gently. “Let me pay for mine at least.”
“Nope. I invited you to dinner.” I grin, and there’s that blush I’m so fond of.
“Technicality.” She laughs. “I bumped into you, and you felt sorry for me is more like it.”
“I bumped into a beautiful woman, who accepted my invitation to dinner,” I counter, my voice gruff with desire.
Fuck, this is bad. This is so bad.
“Here you go,” Todd says, handing me my card and the receipt. “You two enjoy the rest of your night.” He keeps his eyes on me as he says it before rushing away.
“Ready?” I ask Amanda. Standing from the booth, I offer her my hand, and without hesitation, she places hers in mine, allowing me to help her out of the booth. She didn’t need the help, but I’m finding, especially tonight, that I’ll take any excuse I can get to touch her.
When she’s standing, I reluctantly let go of her, but that only gives me the excuse to place my palm on the small of her back and lead her out of the restaurant. Outside, the air is cool for an early May evening in Tennessee.
Amanda turns to face me, and I should remove my hand from her back, but I don’t. Instead, I apply a little pressure, moving her closer to me. She steps forward and peers up at me under long lashes.
“Thank you for dinner and the company.”
“Anytime you need a dinner date, you call me,” I tell her. Her eyes widen a little at my use of the word date, but fuck it, that’s what it felt like, and for now, I’m still living in this bubble of “if things were different” that I’ve been floating around in all night. Might as well keep the momentum until I have to say goodbye to her.
“You saved me again,” she says, her lips tilting in a grin.
The wind blows, and her hair slaps against her cheek. With my free hand, I tuck the wayward strands behind her ear. “You don’t need saving,” I say, my voice lower, huskier than just a few moments before.
“What are your plans for the rest of the night?” she asks.
“No plans.”
She bites down on her bottom lip. I don’t know what she wants to say, but I stay patient, letting her work through whatever it is. “Me either,” she finally says. “It’s going to be so weird to go home to a quiet house without Mia.”
“I know you miss her.”
She nods. “I think I’ll watch a movie or something.” She parts her lips, then quickly closes them. When she opens again, she blurts, “Do you want to watch one with me?” She hangs her head as soon as the words leave her lips and stares at my chest, since we’re standing too close for her to be able to see our feet. “Never mind. I’m sorry. I know you’re busy, and you have a life, and just because I’m missing my daughter, you don’t have to appease me. Thank you again for dinner,” she says and tries to pull away, but my hold is firm, not letting her go.