Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
I laugh. “Yeah, one of my best friends. He’s good to her, and they’re happy. That’s all I want for her. For both of them.”
“So, you were fine with it?” She raises an eyebrow, and her tone tells me she’s surprised that I would be.
“Not at first, but I’d have to be blind to not see the love between the two of them.”
She’s quiet, and I feel exposed. I wanted her to know about my life, but I also hate to talk about it. Standing, I turn the steaks before returning to my seat. I want to ask her more. I want to ask about the girls’ dad. I want to know… everything. However, I need to pace myself.
“I have a lot of ideas for your tattoo,” I tell her.
Her entire body seems to relax at the subject change. “Yeah?”
“I guess you inspire me.” I wink. She laughs, and I love the sound and the way her face lights up.
“I don’t know about that. Speaking of tattoos.” She reaches into her small purse that’s still hanging across her body, pulls out the pocket watch, and hands it to me.
I take it and inspect it, my mind already going crazy with ideas and details for the tattoo design. “Do you mind if I take some pictures?” I ask her.
“Of course not.”
After digging my phone out of my pocket, I zoom in and take several pictures from different angles before handing it back to her. “Thank you.”
“I should be the one thanking you. I feel like you’re putting a lot of work into this.”
“I would love to tell you that you're special. Well, you are special, but this is what we do. We make sure every client is in love with their design before we ever start. We’ve made a name for ourselves, not just from our talent with a tattoo gun, but the artistry as well.”
“I’ll admit I did some internet research after Emerson and Monroe told me your shop was the best. Not that I didn’t trust them, but this is permanent.”
“Exactly. We want it to be everything you could have ever dreamed it would be before we even start to lay the ink.”
“Do all of your clients get a steak dinner?” she asks curiously.
I smile. “Nope. You’re the first client I’ve ever invited to my home.”
“For dinner.”
“For our first date.”
Her lips part, but she quickly recovers. “Who said this was a date?”
“Well, I invited you over. We’re having dinner, good conversation, and I bought you flowers.”
“What?”
I’ve managed to surprise her. “Those.” I point to the house and the bouquet on the kitchen island. “I was so excited to see you. I didn’t give them to you when you first got here. You scrambled my brain, Briar.”
“You bought me flowers?”
“That’s first date appropriate, right? We could call this our second date, but the last one wasn’t planned.” I’ve shocked her, so I give her time to process the news. I stand and check on dinner. It’s ready. “Time to eat.” I turn off the grill.
“Let me help.” She hops up from her chair and pulls open the patio door. “What can I do?”
“Plates are in the cabinet to the right of the sink. Grab us two and start making yours. I’m going to get the salad. I have ranch and French.”
“Ranch, please.”
I smile because ranch is also my favorite. Emerson eats both, which is why I have both. We work together, making plates and our salads before sitting down together at the table. The conversation flows easily. The more time I spend with her, the more I crave time with her.
“This was great,” she says, wiping her mouth. “I can’t eat another bite.”
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to take some dessert home with you.”
“No room,” she groans.
I stand with a chuckle and clear our plates. She stands to help, but I wave her off. “Oh no, that’s not how this works,” she says, trying to imitate me. “You cooked. I clean.”
I smile. “Fine, I’ll rinse, and you can load the dishwasher.”
“Deal.”
We work in comfortable silence. When the kitchen is cleaned, I offer her dessert again, which is just a pack of chocolate chip cookies I picked up at the store earlier, but she declines.
“I should be getting home. I want to be there to put the girls to bed.”
“Sure. Let me grab your flowers and the cookies.”
“Oh, we don’t need those.”
“Tell the girls I bought them for them, and the flowers are for you.” I move to the kitchen and grab both, meeting her at the door. She opens the door for me and closes it behind us as we walk toward her car.
“Thank you, Forrest. For dinner, the flowers, cookies, and my tattoo. I’m really excited to see what you come up with, and… I’m glad it was you I got scheduled with.”