Series: Paige Michaels
Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Holding her close, he asked, “Little girl, are you worn out after a big day?”
“Sorry. I don’t usually go out at night. The party last night and dinner tonight are pushing my energy reserves to their max. Would you like to reschedule when I could be peppier?”
“How about a pizza and a movie at home?” Anton asked.
“But we’re both all dressed up. That can’t be a fun date for you.”
“Being with you is all I need. Want to come to my house or go to yours?” he asked, watching her face.
“Mine. If I fall asleep rudely, you can leave,” she said with a forced laugh.
“You won’t be rude if you fall asleep—only human. Would you rather see me another night?” he asked.
“If you don’t mind me dragging around, I’d love to get to know you better.”
“I’d love to get to know you better as well,” he said quietly, and yet his words seemed to resonate with purpose. She knew he wasn’t just repeating her words back. Anton truly wished to spend time with her.
“My house isn’t far. You can follow me.”
“Drive carefully, Little girl.”
Gemma slid into her car. After setting her purse on the seat next to her and fastening her seatbelt, she started the engine and backed from her parking spot. She drove slowly toward the exit, giving Anton time to maneuver his car as well. The traffic was light as she merged onto the road that passed the shopping area, and Anton kept her easily in sight. A few turns and she was home. Gemma pulled into her garage and got out to watch him park his car in the driveway.
“What a great neighborhood to live in,” he said cheerfully. “You’re so close to the shop you don’t waste a lot of time traveling.”
“Not at all. It’s just far enough that I don’t try to talk myself into walking to get some exercise and yet close enough I can get there in a short time if I’m running late,” she confessed.
“Definitely, you shouldn’t be walking home alone in the dark. I bet you get plenty of steps in at work each day,” he said, wrapping an arm around her to guide her to the door.
“My shop’s not too big, but I make a lot of laps around it from opening to closing.”
“I bet.” Anton moved ahead slightly to open the door to her house from the garage.
After triggering the automatic garage opener to close it, she led the way into her house. It was tidy, thanks to her cleaning service that came every other week. Gemma wasn’t home enough to mess it up. “I’m starving. Are you hungry?”
“Yes. Would you like me to order a pizza? Or shall I whip us up an omelet?” Anton asked, rolling up his sleeves.
An image of the steaming hot egg dish oozing with cheese popped into her mind. She said, “That sounds amazing, but I don’t even know if I have the ingredients in my refrigerator for that.”
Anton pulled a chair out for her at the kitchen counter and suggested, “I bet I can find enough to work with.”
“I can’t put you to work.” She hesitated, not wanting him to feel pressured to cook.
“It’s a simple omelet. Sit, Little girl.”
Too tired to argue and totally wanting to know if he could actually concoct a dish that would taste as good as her mental image promised, Gemma scooted her bottom onto the chair. She watched as he checked out the contents of her almost bare refrigerator, and she made a note to order a delivery soon. Before she knew it, he had chosen eggs, cheese, butter, and a few shady-looking vegetables.
As he moved efficiently in the kitchen, she was amazed to see him chop veggies and start them simmering in a skillet within a short amount of time. He whipped the eggs into a frothy mixture with a few dried herbs he discovered in her spice cabinet as the sizzling mixture filled the air with a delicious scent. In between all those activities, he set a glass of ice water in front of her with the direction, “Drink.”
“I’m not a big water fan,” she answered.
“We’ll stock up on some fruit to jazz it up, but I’m sure you’re dehydrated after your long day.”
“Oh, probably. I limit what I drink at work. I can’t just run to the back to pee every five minutes,” she commented as she watched him pour the egg mixture into the pan and swirl it around.
“That’s not healthy. Drink. This will be done soon,” he promised.
Fascinated to see him concocting what looked like a professional chef’s omelet, she watched him add a generous scattering of cheese and finally fold it over. “This isn’t the first time you’ve made one of those.”
“I paid my way through college working in restaurants. I quickly changed my major from culinary to finance though when I realized I didn’t like standing on my feet all day and all evening.” He chuckled. “Turns out I love numbers.”