Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“This is for you,” he said, smiling wide.
It was a pot of two beautiful deep red snapdragon plants. Some buds were set to bloom while a couple others toward the top of the stem were already open with their dragon jaws closed tight. I was equally surprised and speechless. Across the dark blue pot, he had used a brush and some white paint to write a small note.
“You make me believe in dragons.” I read it out loud, shaking my head, my heart full to the brim with an emotion I hardly ever experienced. “Thank you. I love it. Thank you.”
“I was hoping you’d like it. I considered painting a dragon but also didn’t want to test my luck. It was impressive enough I wrote that out without it looking like something from the Zodiac killer.”
That made me give a deep belly laugh. Dyl had that effortless way of saying anything and making it sound like the funniest damn joke you’d ever heard in your life.
“Here, I’ll hold it while you drive.”
I handed the pot back to him before I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He must not have been content with that because he leaned in for another proper kiss on the lips. I couldn’t resist reaching up and grabbing the back of his neck, the kiss instantly heating up.
“You know that’s my spot,” he said when we finally broke apart.
“I do, I do.” I gave him a wink and reversed out of his driveway. His neighborhood was quiet. Full of brick-faced townhomes with cute porches and a couple of white picket fences, the streets full of tall oak trees that seemed older than the homes they framed. We were deep into fall so the leaves were orange and red, covering the floor in a carpet of natural colors.
“So where we going?” Dylan asked.
“It’s a surprise,” I said. It didn’t take long for him to figure it out, as I took the same route he’d likely taken to get to my house. I pulled into my driveway, a hand on his thigh. “With everything going on, I didn’t want to go somewhere too public. Hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all,” he said. The unspoken words between us were loud.
I was still worried about this stalker and their morbid fixation on Dylan. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep him out of it completely—he was far too entrenched in my life and hard-headed for that—but I wanted to protect him as best I could.
And that meant a private home-cooked meal in the yard that I had decorated and made nice just for the special occasion. I walked him through the side gate and under a trail of crisscrossing fairy lights, toward a small circular table in the center of the yard that was draped in a classy white tablecloth. Rose petals were spread at our feet, making a trail to the table, where I had also added a handful of them around the chilled container of champagne. “This is beautiful,” Dyl said with awe in his tone.
“Even more so, now,” I said as I moved the bucket of champagne over to replace it with the snapdragons that he’d brought me. I could barely take my eyes off him. He was so handsome in the glow of the fairy lights. Night had already fallen, and although the moon wasn’t full—that would be happening in just two days—it was bright enough to add a soft and delicate filter to the scene.
I pulled his chair out for him. He moved to sit, a whiff of his oaky cologne filling my lungs. I pushed the chair in and couldn’t resist giving him a shoulder squeeze. He rolled his neck and groaned. “I’m going to need a full massage later.”
“You got it.” I leaned down and kissed his neck. I then went inside and grabbed the first course for tonight’s meal. “But first, you’ve got a fresh cucumber, strawberry, and arugula salad.”
His eyes went wide as I placed his plate down in front of him. “This looks amazing.”
“I hope it tastes amazing, too.”
I sat across from him. He didn’t waste a second, taking a bite of the salad and shaking his head in that universal this shit is good kind of way. “Wow,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on by a salad before.”
I laughed at that and leaned back in my chair. I grabbed the champagne and popped it open. It fizzed over and spilled into the grass. I filled his glass to the top, doing the same with mine. I set the champagne back down and lifted my glass.
“Cheers,” I said. “To many more of these nights.”
His eyes glittered. “Many more.” Our glasses clinked. The champagne tasted crisp and sweet, pairing perfectly with the salad.