Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
She’s still giggling once we get on the elevator, practically buzzing with excited energy the entire way down to the lobby. We’re going out for pancakes. Nothing special. But for some reason, it is to her.
What am I talking about, for some reason? I know enough about her now to understand this is a big deal because she probably doesn’t have the money to go out on a whim. I doubt a job stocking shelves and bagging groceries pays a lot, and she’d make up the difference with her tips from the bar. Going out to breakfast might be a treat for her.
Otherwise, she’s just excited because she’s going out with me, and I can’t fathom that.
Nat was kind enough—or pushy enough—to alert one of our drivers to be ready. He’s waiting for us in the garage, holding open the back door of the SUV. “Pancake Castle,” I murmur to him while Teagan climbs into the vehicle and leaves me staring at her lean legs. Easy, now. I climb in behind her and deliberately keep my attention away from her body. This situation is complicated enough without me adding an embarrassing erection.
“Do you really spend all your time in the hotel?” She turns to me, eyes glowing with curiosity. “Be real.”
“Not all of my time, per se. But a lot of it, yes.”
“Why is it so strange for you to get out and do something different?”
It’s a normal question, even if it does raise my hackles. There’s a line between curiosity and being nosy. “Let me guess,” she fills in when I don’t answer immediately. “You’re a workaholic. You’re afraid everything will fall apart without you.”
She’s not wrong. “Are you trying to add control freak to my list of qualities?”
“I don’t have to try,” she teases with a playful grin. It should irk the hell out of me, but instead, I have to fight off a grin of my own.
“Touché.” I chose the Pancake Castle because it isn’t far from the hotel, and we come to a stop in front of the restaurant that can only be described as whimsical… and that’s if I’m feeling generous. There’s a big sign out front with a huge stack of pancakes dripping with butter and syrup beneath a rendering of a medieval castle. Flanking either side of the double doors leading into the restaurant stands a pair of what I guess are supposed to be guards in metal breastplates and helmets. I can only imagine how many people have taken their picture standing with the plaster sentries.
“Relax.” I don’t realize I’m clenching my jaw so tightly until I hear Teagan’s whispered advice. “It’s just pancakes. And even though it’s not like your fancy hotel restaurant, I’ve always heard they’re pretty good.”
They’re also pretty busy, though there’s plenty of seating left for us. Once we make it to the host stand, a young girl wearing a plastic crown takes us to a booth near the window overlooking the street. I hesitate rather than sliding in the way Teagan does without thinking. “Could we get something closer to the back corner?” There’s an empty booth back there, and the girl shrugs like she couldn’t care less before leading us in that direction. I would rather see the entire room if possible.
Soon, we settle in with our laminated menus, and it’s another minute until the girl comes back with a carafe of coffee and two mugs. “Yes, please,” Teagan murmurs, reaching for the coffee like it’s a lifeline and pouring a cup for both of us. I notice she didn’t ask if she should, and something about her casual thoughtfulness loosens the worst of the tightness in my chest. This is fine. We will be fine. It’s just breakfast.
“This lumberjack breakfast looks pretty good.”
I scan the menu until I find the dish she’s talking about. “You’re kidding me.”
“What?”
“Three pancakes, three eggs, ham, sausage, bacon, and home fries? How many people are you planning on feeding?”
“Trust me. I can put it away.”
“Where do you put it?” She has to lower her coffee and cover her mouth with her other hand to stifle her giggles. I’m not really joking, though. The girl looks like she eats air and not much else, and I’ve carried her. I can testify to how light she is.
“Maybe I’ll just stick to pancakes and a side of bacon.”
“I was going to say. Three different types of pork in the same dish? I like pork as much as the next guy, but that seems a little extreme.”
“Hey, go big or go home, right?” The impish grin she wears unlocks another grin from me. What is it about her that makes it so easy to smile? Even surrounded by strangers whose mingled conversations make me want to cover my ears with both hands, I can smile.