Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
He hands her his menu.
I haven’t even perused mine. But the thought of eating anything right now makes me ill. And I just want to get the hell out of here.
“Same for me,” I say, forking over my menu, too. “Thank you, Morgan.”
“You’re welcome.”
She’s not two steps away before Curtis lets loose on a tangent about classic cars. Out of nowhere, and with no attempt at finding a topic that I know anything about or have any interest in, for that matter, he goes off about torque. Pistons. Crank shafts, which I gather is not what it sounds like.
I nod here and there, but there’s no input needed from me. This is a one-person conversation. I’m just here as a spectator.
I shouldn’t be here. I’m not sure what I was thinking agreeing to this farce.
As he chatters away, my thoughts drift to Tate.
“And to think that my goal has been trying to run into you all day. This doesn’t bother you, does it? Me being in your office? Because, if it does, I’ll go.”
My heart tugs in my chest.
I’ve been unfair to him. I’ve been unfair to myself.
Somewhere along the line, I’ve allowed the monologue in my head to skew to the negative. Instead of looking at a situation and seeing the positive—what happens if this is the best thing to ever happen to me?—my mind always goes to the dark side—what happens if I screw this up and ruin everything? I don’t feel hopeful; I’m fearful. I don’t imagine the joy that could come out of something. I go immediately to the potential pain and heartbreak or judge myself preemptively.
I look up at Curtis. His lips are still moving. I watch him jabber on, having muted him in my head, and ask myself what I’m getting out of this. The answer: nothing. So why was I so willing to take this risk when I could’ve taken a much safer gamble and had dinner with Tate?
I need to talk to him.
Adrenaline fires through me, and my eyes dart around for an escape plan. Just as my hand locks around my phone, Morgan appears with our plates. Curtis finally stops jabbering long enough for me to catch my breath.
“Your burgers are here,” she says, setting our plates in front of us. “Do you need anything else? Ketchup? Refills?”
Earplugs.
“I’ll take another chardonnay,” Curtis says.
“Could you bring the check whenever you have time?” I ask. “Just to save you the trouble later.”
She nods knowingly. “I’ll grab that for you. And the chardonnay.”
“Ah, dammit,” Curtis says, pulling his phone from his shirt pocket. “This is Cathy.” He glances up at me. “The ex-wife. Mind if I take this?”
God bless Cathy.
“Be my guest,” I say, scooting to the edge of the booth. “I’m going to use the ladies’ room.”
I’m not sure he even hears me.
“I told you I was on a date,” he says, smirking. “What do you want?”
A lobotomy if she’s still calling you.
I speed walk to the restroom, desperate to be alone. I don’t have Tate’s number and I’m not sure how to get it. Would Tally have it, by any chance?
My hand wraps around the door handle, and I twist and push.
As I take a step inside the small room, a palm splays against the small of my back and ushers me inside.
I gasp, swinging around like a madwoman, ready to brawl. But I don’t even get turned all the way before I’m hauled into a wide, strong body, and a mouth that I’m very familiar with comes crashing down onto mine.
Tate yanks me to him, carrying us both into the restroom and locking the door behind us.
My brain misfires. It’s unable to compute a thought. Instead, my body takes over and I melt into the man I’ve been thinking about all day.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my head spinning.
He smirks. “Checking out my competition.”
“You really do have stalker tendencies.”
He chuckles, pressing another long, leisurely kiss against my lips.
“Maybe,” he whispers, cupping my face with his hands. “But I had to know for sure.”
“You had to know what?”
His hands slide to the small of my back. “I had to know if I’m crazy to think that we belong together.”
My knees wobble, but I’m not in fear of falling. He’s holding onto me as if his life depends on it.
I grin at him. “Did you come up with any conclusions?”
“A few.”
“Like what?” I ask, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“You look miserable out there.”
I laugh, my chest bouncing against his. “Is it that obvious?”
“I think the fuckhead you’re having dinner with is the only one who’s oblivious to it.”
“Fuckhead?” I laugh. “You don’t even know him.”
He stares at me. “I’d want to fight him for being with my girl if he wasn’t so pathetic.”
Fire spreads through me, pooling in my core. The heat in his eyes does nothing to squash it, either.