Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Except we don’t know each other that well. What if you learn all my weird quirks and idiosyncrasies and decide that you don’t actually like me any longer? You’ll move out, and we won’t speak.”
Parker’s lips twitched as if he were fighting a laugh, but his voice was neutral when he replied, “I think that is highly unlikely.”
“Okay. How about public displays of affection? Are you against them?” As I asked, I gazed at the hand so close to my own.
Parker lifted his fingers and stretched to rest them over mine. “No, I don’t mind some mild PDA like handholding, leaning, or even small kisses. No different from most adult straight couples. I have no interest in putting on a show or making a political statement, nor am I a teenager anymore. What about you?”
“Same as long as the setting is appropriate. Like not at work.”
Parker’s eyes widened and his fingers shifted to thread with mine. “Really? So if your husband showed up at work one day to drop off your lunch, you’d let him leave without a quick ‘thank-you’ kiss?”
The vivid scene played through my mind with Parker strolling through the office in his jeans and paint-splatted T-shirt, Joy on one hip and a lunch bag prepared by Chef Donovan in the other hand. To hell with decorum. I’d kiss the shit out of Parker in front of the entire department and then blow a raspberry on Joy’s cheek until she giggled. Let them all be jealous.
“There might be some exceptions to that rule,” I hedged.
“Good call,” he teased. “What else you got for me?”
Because Parker and I had always been forthright about things with each other. “I talked about our date with Sebastian, Pierce, and Rome. I have a list.”
The crazy artist lit up and even scooted closer in his seat. “Seriously? Like on paper?”
I nodded and released his hand so I could dig through my pockets until I finally located the sticky note. With a look of worry, I handed it to him.
His pale-gray eyes read over it, and he nodded the entire time. “Yep, this all seems about normal.” He handed it back with a smile. “We can start with the first one. My family. Both of my parents are alive and still married to each other. My dad’s name is Lester and my mom’s is Lenore, but most everyone calls her Lenny. I have an older brother named Jack and two younger sisters, Barbara and Eileen.” He leaned in and lowered his voice as if he were telling a secret. “Eileen was named after my maternal grandmother, who we all adore, but my sister hates her name. I grew up calling her Bug, which she hates or loves on any given day based on her mood.”
“Why do you call her Bug?”
“My mom called her Snuggle Bug or Cuddle Bug when she was a baby, and it got shortened by the rest of us to Bug. Barbara is usually Barb, but sometimes it’s Barbie. Dad calls her Pumpkin. Jack is three years older than me and Barb is two years younger, which means that Jack picked on me growing up, and then I got to pick on Barb. However, there are eight years between me and Bug—she was very unexpected—and it was my job to help take care of her.”
“How old is…Bug?” I asked, the nickname getting stuck on my tongue. It was definitely a strange thing to call a young woman.
“Nineteen. She’s starting her second year at Berkley, which my parents aren’t thrilled about. They would have rather she stayed in Arizona, but they’ve still got Jack and Barb there. They’re probably afraid she’s going to follow in my footsteps and move away after college.”
I stared at my water, trying to soak in all this information that was hitting me. Some of it seemed familiar, like he’d mentioned that he was originally from Arizona.
“She’s nineteen. That means you’re…twenty-seven?” I said as I ran the math again. How had I never asked his age before? Not even once during the past year.
“Yep, born on February eighteenth. Aquarius. What about you? How old are you? I know you’ve got to be older than me.”
I straightened in my seat, and I’d swear that my brain blanked on my own damn age. But it reappeared and I blurted out, “Thirty-five.”
“Ooooh…eight-year gap. Sexy older man. No wonder you’re so good at taking care of me. When’s your birthday?”
“January fourteenth.”
Parker immediately pulled out his phone and began typing.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m adding it to my calendar. My memory is shit, and I don’t want to forget this,” he answered without even looking up.
My heart flopped a little in my chest, and I momentarily worried that I was having a heart attack. The only person who went out of his way to remember my birthday was Sebastian, but Parker was making sure he could celebrate it. While I was pretty sure I would never forget it, I also pulled out my phone and added Parker’s birthday to my calendar. It was still over five months away, but was there an actual chance I could plan something for his birthday? A party? An extravagant gift?