Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Alice studies me for a few seconds before smoothing her hand down the front of her apron and pulling out the chair next to me, sitting with her legs crossed. I remember so many things about those fucking incredible legs, but I wish I didn’t.
She clears her throat, and my eyes lift. There’s an awkward breath as we share a silent acknowledgment that I was staring at her legs.
“Blair told me I could have lots of input on this wedding.” I dive into conversation as I hand Alice a wedge of my quesadilla.
She shakes her head, so I set it on the table in front of her, which makes her frown while picking up the wedge and eyeing the grease it left behind.
“I was told I could pick out whatever cake flavor I wanted for the groom’s cake. Makes sense, right?” I mumble over a bite of food.
Alice offers a one-shouldered shrug with a tiny nod. Then she steals the knife to spread guacamole over the top of her quesadilla. I keep my grin in check.
“So I said chocolate cake, and Blair and Vera rolled their eyes at me. The baker suggested red velvet cake, and that seemed to please Blair and her mom, but I don’t want red velvet cake. I want regular chocolate. Then they suggested a filling if I wanted chocolate. They said orange, cherry, or raspberry pair well with chocolate cake. Nope. I just want plain chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.”
Alice finishes chewing and licks her lips. “So what cake are you getting?”
“Rum cake.”
She presses her fingers to her lips to muffle her laughter. Then she reaches for my beer.
I don’t stop her, but before the bottle touches her lips, she freezes, and her smile dies as she slowly sets the beer back on the table.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, swallowing hard. “I’d better get back to work.”
I don’t argue because even if she doesn’t remember me, her body has muscle memory of how we were together.
Chapter Eleven
Alice
Sex is an underrated icebreaker.
Don’t be a prude.
Eight Years Earlier …
With my legs tucked into my shirt, knees to my chest, I grinned before taking a sip of my steamy coffee. Had I really propositioned Murphy for sex?
Palmer jumped up next to me on the outdoor sectional and purred the second I touched him. My gaze climbed the back side of the building just as Murphy opened the shades. He smiled, and I returned a beauty queen wave.
I liked my escape, and I never wanted to leave.
No job.
No responsibilities.
No one hovering over me, making sure I didn’t slit my wrists.
A few seconds later, Murphy descended the back stairs with a coffee mug in one hand and something indistinguishable in his other. “Good morning,” he said.
“What are you eating?” I asked.
“A quesadilla.”
I wrinkled my nose. “For breakfast? With coffee?”
“Correct.”
“Why is it so limp?”
“What do you mean?” He stepped onto the deck.
“They’re supposed to be crisp on the outside. Grilled to perfection with a side of guacamole.”
“I throw cheese on a tortilla, fold it in half, and nuke it. But enough about me. How’d you sleep after all that wine and red meat?”
“Like a baby. You?”
He yawned. “Not so great.”
“That’s too bad. Why not?”
“A lot on my mind?” He sat next to me on the sectional.
“Sex?”
He smirked before sipping his coffee, then he shook his head. “Wow. I thought it was just the wine and music. Twilight-induced bravery. But you’re going there this morning. Just throwing it out there before I’m properly caffeinated.”
“You’ve said on multiple occasions to let you know if I need anything. I don’t want this to come across as a threat, but when I leave my review, I’ll have no choice but to mention your lack of responsiveness to my requests.”
Murphy chuckled before shoving the rest of his quesadilla into his mouth and chewing slowly. Then he cleared his throat. “Just like that, huh?”
“Just like what?” I stroked Palmer’s back.
He wiped his hands on his jeans. “You’ve been here four days, and you’re ready to have sex with me?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Have you ever met a woman at a bar and taken her home only to say, ‘Nice knowing ya,’ the next morning? I believe there is a name for that …” I twisted my lips.
“A one-night stand?”
I snapped my fingers. “Bingo.”
He wiped the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Are you sure you’re not married?”
“Positive.” I drank my coffee, enjoying Murphy’s real-time contemplation.
“Fine.” He stood. “Let me brush my teeth.”
My lips parted, eyes unblinking as he climbed the stairs with the same unhurried pace as he’d descended them, like sex with me was something to mark off a to-do list.
On the off chance that he was serious, I ran inside and brushed my teeth, too, combed my hair, shaved my legs at the bathroom sink, and rolled on deodorant. Then I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Was I really going to have sex with a virtual stranger? I glanced down, tracing the scar on my arm.