Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 115435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“You’re going to deprive me of carbs?” She narrows her eyes, clearly teasing me. To my surprise, she takes my hand in hers and kisses my palm, sending a jolt of awareness up my arm and down to my cock. “Absolutely not. I’m hungry, Mr. Gallagher, and you promised me pasta.”
“Then I best feed you.”
Christ, I’ll give her the moon if it’ll make her happy.
She smiles softly and turns to Emily and another woman I didn’t see before. That must be Tiffany.
“Ladies, I’m heading out. Have a good day off tomorrow.”
“You too, boss,” Emily says with a smile and a wave.
With my hand on the small of Billie’s back, we walk to the front door and step outside. Miller stands in front of my SUV and nods at us as we step onto the footpath.
“We’re going to walk to the restaurant, Miller,” I tell him.
“Hi, Miller,” Billie adds with a smile. “Are you having a good day?”
My right-hand man cracks a smile and nods at Billie. “Yes, thank you, miss. I’ll be parked in front of the restaurant when you’re finished.”
But he doesn’t climb inside the SUV. He walks behind us down the block until we’re safely inside the restaurant.
“I’m Casey, your server tonight,” we’re told as we sit. She writes her name in crayon on the white paper and passes the menus. “Can I get you started with something to drink?”
“I’ll start with water,” Billie says.
“Same for me,” I reply and nod as she walks away.
“I have questions,” Billie begins, setting her menu aside and leaning on the table, giving me her undivided attention.
And I want her undivided attention. All the damn time.
“That makes two of us,” I reply. “Go ahead. Ask away.”
“First of all, do you want to get what we got last time and share?”
“And do you remember that, angel?”
She purses her lips. “I have an excellent memory.”
“As do I. That works for me.”
“Good.”
The server returns with waters and a basket of bread with garlic piled on top of it. Billie grabs a slice and keeps talking.
“Sometimes Miller’s with you, and sometimes he isn’t. Why is that?”
I take her free hand in mine and rub my thumb over her knuckles. She’s not wearing any rings, but she has on the necklace I gave her.
“Miller’s with me most of the time,” I admit. “Some days, I go out on my own, but that honestly pisses him off.”
She lifts an eyebrow, but we’re interrupted by the server. I place our order, and when we’re alone again, she takes my hand once more and sips her water.
“Why do you have him with you?”
“For protection.”
She blinks at that, her eyebrows pulling together in a frown, and my angel suddenly looks concerned. I don’t ever want her to worry about anything. “What do you need to be protected from?”
I shake my head, ready to brush it off, but her hand tightens in mine.
“Don’t fucking sugarcoat it,” she says, her voice low enough that no one else can hear her. “Just tell me.”
“I don’t always deal with good people. I can be ruthless in business. I don’t care if I’m liked as long as I get what I want.”
“People want to hurt you?” Her jaw firms, and she squares her shoulders. “You don’t need Miller. I’ll kill them myself.”
“I have no doubt you could do that.” I can’t help the smile that spreads over my face because she looks so fierce. It feels good to know that she’d try to defend me in any way she could. Not that I’d ever let her put herself between me and anyone else. “But you don’t have to worry about anything. It’s mostly a precaution, and that’s the truth of it. Also, when he drives, I can work.”
Her gaze searches mine as if she’s making sure I’m telling the truth. She must believe me because she nods. The Italian nachos are set in front of us, and I discover I’m hungrier than I thought I was.
“What are your questions for me?” Billie asks.
“What are you wearing under that dress?”
She doesn’t even pause in her reply. “Something that will make you sweat when I get you home.”
I reach over and brush her hair behind her ear. “All you have to do is exist for that to happen.”
She smirks, but I don’t miss the satisfaction that moves through her eyes.
“How long have you been divorced?”
Ah, here we go. After our talk yesterday, I wondered when she’d dig into this topic. Not that I have a problem discussing it with her because if the roles were reversed, I’d want to know, too.
“More than ten years. Maybe closer to twelve now, actually.”
She reaches for another nacho and chews. “Was it amicable?”
“As much as divorce can be.” She’s watching me with serious eyes, and I lean back in the chair. “I was twenty-three when I married her and almost twenty-eight when it was over. I’d known her a long time. Her family and mine are friends, and when it was suggested that we’d make a fine match, I didn’t balk at it.”