Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
His eyebrows lift, not much, but noticeable. His attention loses its measured approach, and he smirks. “I beg to differ.”
“You can beg all you want,” I smart back with a scoff. “But I’m just fine with good old well drinks.”
“Come over sometime, and I’ll show you it was worth the drive.”
It’s tempting to pinch myself to make sure this is real, and I’m not dreaming.
My breathing quickens as I scramble for a reply. Did he just ask me out? I replay our banter quickly. I think so. That invitation was as straightforward as they come.
I attempt to calm my pitter-pattering heart. “To Stonehill or down the road to the cottage?”
“Both. One taste and you’ll never go back to the ordinary.”
Using a nightcap as an excuse to get a woman to visit is as old-fashioned as his drink itself. And I’m not upset over it. Apparently, neither are my heating cheeks as they put on a display for him. I fan myself to try to keep from heating all over for this man.
But there’s such a charm to this version of flirting versus a booty call. I don’t need to read about him on paper to know this guy prefers a steak to a burger and a one-night stand to forever. It’s written all over him, carved into those hard muscles, and that jaw that ticks with impatience every time he thinks I’m not paying attention.
No one this hot walks around without some history. It’s shaping his whole aura. And I know better than to tangle with a player. Especially when I can tell this player gets what he wants, which won’t be me this summer.
I take a step back, needing the space and clarity, escaping the pull of my bee to his honey, and breathe a bit freer. It’s only in my best interest to stick to business by backing away from this banter about being friends. We’re not friends, so I need to stick to a formal-name basis and protect myself.
Wrapping my arms around the basket, I say, “I’m glad I got what you want.”
His eyebrow cocks.
“I mean, the service I provide is what I hope sets me apart from others.” When his lips part, I realize what I’ve said. “What I mean to say is that I want to provide the best service to my clients. Yes, the profile is long, but it really helps me curate the stay to your needs.”
“Oh, really?” His dulcet tone could lure me anywhere.
Oh, geez. I smile sheepishly. It’s time for me to stop, just stop everything—talking, ogling, mentally throwing my willpower away—and collect myself. I need to keep my mouth shut. Close it. Zip it.
A grin teases the corners of his mouth. “Does everyone get the best of you?”
“Pretty much.” My brain can’t keep up with these mind games. Are we flirting? Are we talking? Is this business? “I’ll continue this level of service if I ever take ownership.”
“You don’t own the cottage?”
“No. Long story. Technically, it’s a short story, but not one we need to get into.”
“I have time,” he says as if the day won’t slip through our fingers when we’re not looking.
“I don’t.” We stand in an unannounced staring contest as the seconds tick by in my head. I cave first to be polite. But losing to him feels worse under the circumstances—him, me, and this weird energy between us—draining my hostess battery. I shove the basket forward. “Here. This is for you.”
He reaches forward, taking hold of one of the handles as his eyes graze over the goodies I packed for them. Should I be studying the dimple in his chin, or the lightest dusting of scruff clinging to the drift of his sharp jawline? No, but he’s put both on brazen display, so it’s hard not to.
When his eyes return to mine, his gaze travels the length of me like he’s not sure where he wants to start first, while daring to drag his tongue over the flow of his bottom lip. “Looks good.”
I exhale, trying to calm the butterflies he’s awakened. If I don’t, I won’t survive this man if he keeps looking at me like that. “It’s just something special we wanted to give to say thank you for being our guests for the summer.”
Holding the basket, he replies, “You’re welcome.”
A laugh bursts from me like a clucking chicken upon hearing the response.
The little glimpses into who this guy thinks he is lead me to realize that looks apparently aren’t everything. His personality comes with a sculpted body and face that could grace the pages of magazines. But I’m not foolish enough to fall for such superficial features. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate him, though. Silently. To myself.
I laugh under my breath. “Alrighty then.” Though not an official meeting, I still need to visit with Mrs. Dover about the property. Talking to her is still hanging around the recesses of my mind, which doesn’t allow me to invest as much time as I’d like bantering with him, so I start the obligatory tour of the house to hurry this along. I don’t want to chicken out and put off talking to her for however long it takes to gather the courage again. It’s time to be direct so there’s no misunderstanding where I stand. Currently, standing next to his handsome giant isn’t getting me anywhere, so I clap my hands once. “I should get you settled, Mr. Sutton.”