Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
But goddammit, she’s sex on short little legs!
I hold back my desire, barely, and meet her gaze, my lips curving up. “Right on time, McDavid.”
One side of her lips quirks as she comes to a stop a few feet before me. I tuck my hands into my pockets to keep from grabbing her to suck that bottom lip. “It looks so different in here.”
If I could, I’d look around too, but my eyes are glued to her. Shit, she looks like a wicked angel. A naughty temptress. Yup, I could definitely be married to her. I clear my throat as I present our table to her. “Right this way.”
I hold out my arm to her, and she takes it, giving me a sideways glance. I note the hesitant way she takes my arm, but she does, and that fuels my confidence. My heart is in my throat as I walk her toward the table. When I hear a soft intake of breath, I glance down to see her lip curving more. Good. She likes it.
I pick up the rose, handing it to her. “For you.”
She beams up at me as she takes it. “This is incredible.”
“Only the best for you.”
She looks surprised by what I’ve said, and before I try to explain my thoughts, I take her hand in mine. I unwrap our arms and hold her hand as she lowers herself into the seat. When she’s settled, I reluctantly let go of her hand and walk around to sit across from her. I grab the bottle of wine I’ve had breathing for the last thirty minutes and pour us each a glass.
“The food is settling. I made a chicken potpie with a cinnamon-roll cake for dessert.”
She takes the glass from me. “You plan on putting me in a food coma, so I can’t leave?”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but that’s a damn good plan,” I say, meeting her gaze, and heat shines in those hazel depths. “Especially with how damn gorgeous you are.”
Redness spreads along her neck and up her jaw. Her cheeks fill with a gorgeous pink flush that has my cock jerking to life in my pants. “Thank you.”
I lift my glass between us, and she taps hers to mine. “To meeting our goals,” I say, and her brows furrow.
“To fresh starts,” she adds, and I nod in agreement.
’Cause this is sure as hell going to be a fresh start for both of us.
Our eyes lock, and my skin tingles as we both take a sip of my favorite red wine. While it tastes real fucking good, I’d rather be tasting what McDavid has to offer. Before I can say that out loud, my watch pings with the timer I set. “Ah, it’s ready. Give me a moment.”
“Do you want help?”
“Nah, enjoy your wine. I’ll serve us out here.” I head to the kitchen to get our dinner. I grab the potpie off the counter with an oven mitt before snagging a serving tray and rack with my other hand. I’m almost back to the table when I realize I didn’t bring a knife. “Damn it, I forgot the knife.”
She’s up before I can even stop her. “Where is it? I’ll grab it.”
“It’s on the counter, by the door.”
McDavid heads off as I set up the rack, then the tray before placing the potpie on top. She’s back just as quickly as she left, and I take the knife from her outstretched hand. “Thanks.”
“It looks so good,” she comments as she slides back into her seat. “Did you go to culinary school?”
I nod. “I did because I thought I wanted to be a chef, but that all went to shit when my dad passed away.”
Her shoulders fall as I take her plate. “I’m sorry.”
I send her a wide grin before plating her meal. “Thanks, but when he passed, I knew I wanted to carry on his legacy here. So, I shifted gears and focused on the coffeehouse.”
She takes her plate with a thanks, and then I dish up mine. “That’s why you don’t want to train me, huh? Competition for your dad’s coffeehouse.”
I meet her gaze, and I can’t help but smile at her. “The exact reason.”
She nods slowly and then pulls her gaze from mine to grab her fork. I watch as she cuts a large bite of the potpie before bringing it to her lips. She blows on the food, the steam rising from the flaky goodness on her fork, and I have the urge to knock it away so that she’s blowing on my lips. I’m frozen in place as she opens her mouth, and the fork disappears between her lips. Then I’m met with the most intoxicating moan as she nods at me. “Oh my God, this is magnificent.”
Pride flushes through me, but the need for her burns deep inside as I grin at her. “I’m glad.” I take my own bite, but I can’t enjoy it when I’m watching her eat. Each bite she takes ends with a smile or a moan, and I’m wound so damn tight, I can’t breathe. I’m not going to make it. I need a distraction. “So, where did you grow up?”