Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
He shocks the hell out of me by taking my hand in his, linking our fingers as we walk inside. His hand is warm, but not sweaty. Dry and smooth, but not cracked or callused.
Frankly, it feels fantastic.
“Two, please,” he tells the hostess. He never lets go of my hand as we’re led through the dining room to a table by the front windows, in the corner. When our hands pull away so we can sit, I feel a loss that seems absolutely ridiculous. “Is the food good here?” he asks after the hostess leaves.
“Mm. Oh, that’s right, this didn’t open until after you left.”
“The hotel recommended it,” he says with a nod. “It smells good.”
“Wait until you taste the bread. You’ll never be the same.”
He grins at me, and my heart stops. I’ve known this man forever, and yet, I don’t know him. I recognize his face, but I don’t recognize the firm body that’s come with being a man.
And I have absolutely no idea what his life has consisted of over the past ten-plus years.
“Tell me everything,” I blurt out.
“About what?”
“About everything. I don’t know anything about you anymore, and that makes me a little sad.”
He sighs and reaches over to squeeze my hand. He doesn’t let go.
“I don’t know anything about you, either.” He frowns, looking at our fingers, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. “But we have a week to learn.”
“Let’s start now,” I suggest, making him laugh.
“Well, one thing I know is that you’re still as impatient as you ever were.”
I nod, but we’re interrupted by the waitress, who goes through her whole spiel of wine and specials. She writes her name on the paper on our table. Once she’s taken our order and leaves, Brody says, “So, what’s your verdict on the suit?”
I let my eyes travel over him, taking in the navy suit and white button-down under it. He’s paired it with a lighter blue tie that sets off his brown eyes.
I’m pretty sure my panties are soaked.
“It’s good.”
His eyes narrow. “It’s just good?”
I shrug, take a sip of my water, and look away. No, it’s not just good. It’s fucking brilliant. I want to rip it off of him to see what’s beneath it.
But that seems a bit forward.
“I mean, if you like that sort of thing.”
He sits back in his chair, staring at me. “You confessed this afternoon that you do like that sort of thing.”
I smile, holding his gaze as the waitress delivers our drinks and leaves. Neither of us takes a sip.
“You look damn good in that suit, Brody.”
He smiles now, a bit shyly, and then he looks me over, the way he did when I first opened the door to him.
“You’re just… wow.” I cock a brow, and he slowly shakes his head.
“You were always a beautiful girl, Brooke. But damn, you’re stunning. Thanks for coming to dinner with me.”
“Thanks for inviting me.”
The time flies by as we dig into our food, and Brody falls head over heels in love with the garlic bread.
I told him he would.
We’re both fat and happy as we mosey out of the restaurant, toward his car.
“God, I can barely move,” I moan as I drop into the seat and rub my food baby. “Why do I always eat too much?”
“Because it’s delicious,” he says and sighs when he sits next to me. “All of my clothes are suddenly too small.”
I laugh and nod. “Me, too.”
He drives us back to my house, parks at the curb, and is still the perfect gentleman as he opens my door and escorts me to my porch.
“Do you want to come inside?” I ask as I unlock the door.
“Yes,” he says with a sigh, leaning his shoulder on the frame and looking down at me with longing. “So I’d better go.”
I nod and paste a smile on my face, determined to not let him see my disappointment. I’d like to spend more time with him. It’s easy, just like it was before, with a new sexual tension that’s just exhilarating.
“Well, you have a good night. Thanks for dinner.”
I turn to go inside, but he stops me, framing my face with his big hands.
Is he going to kiss me? Please, God, kiss me. I bet he’d win an Olympic gold medal if it were a sport.
He leans in, his eyes on my lips, and I brace myself for the kiss of the century.
But he plants his lips on my forehead, takes a deep breath, and then pulls away.
“See you tomorrow, Brooke.”
He walks away and I hurry inside, shut the door, and lean my back against it. My heart is hammering in my chest, my breath coming as fast as if I’d just run a marathon.
Not that I know what that feels like, since I only run if something’s chasing me.