Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“No,” he quickly replied. “She might have mentioned that I was an idiot, though. Which, she wasn’t wrong.”
Admitting fault.
Not bad, Alex.
“You didn’t deserve any of my harshness. I apologize, Yara. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and I am sorry for breaking your dish.” He went on to say, “Order anything on the menu. That wine is the best in-house, from Honey Bee Winery, too. It pairs perfectly with the bread.”
I smiled.
He didn’t.
I missed the tiny grin he’d given me a few moments ago.
“Thank you,” I expressed, not knowing what else to say to him.
“Not a problem.” As he turned to walk away, he paused with his back toward me. Then he looked back my way. “Yara?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t hate you.”
“I know. The whole energy thing blah, blah, blah. But sometimes it feels like you do.”
“Yes, well…” He crossed his broad arms across his chest. “Sometimes my hatred for myself spills out and accidentally hits others. I’m sorry for my spills. I’m working on cleaning them up. Also, you should try the house sangria, too. It pairs great with my balls,” he teased as he winked my way.
He teased and winked at me!
Oh my goodness. He was flirting with me!
Well, I think he’s flirting. Maybe. I don’t know.
I was the dog whisperer, after all. Not the man whisperer.
But he did wink. Winking felt like a flirty thing to do.
Or was he just blinking? Did a fruit fly shoot into his eyeball? Ugh. This was all too much to unpack. But I did know that the man just before me was not the man I saw nights prior.
Maybe the real Alex was kidnapped, and I was dealing with his clone version. If that was the case, I’d hoped the clone would stick around while the other version was off somewhere stepping in mounds of dog poop.
The fluttering of butterflies in my stomach was confusing, leaving me on high alert. How did a man who made my blood pressure rise so high a few days ago now have my cheeks become a canvas of rosy hues?
With that, he disappeared back to the kitchen. When my server returned, I shook off the odd interaction with Alex. I couldn’t help but wonder which version of the man I’d crossed paths with was the real one. Was he the gentle giant or the stinging wasp?
“Hi, are you ready to order?” the server asked. “Or do you want me to go over the menu? The tapas are quite popular here.”
I leaned in toward her, crossing my arms against the table. “I’ll have one of every tapa.”
“Of every one?” she questioned, a bit of shock to her tone. A tone I didn’t very much like, but whatever, it was free dollars and free cents that evening. When in Rome. Or Madrid, that was.
“Every single one. Oh! And I want to order the oxtail paella. It says to place that order in early because it takes a while to cook.”
“Okay…” The server looked at me as if I had three heads. “Are you like…an undercover food critic?”
She must’ve been one of those Chicago staff members that Alex brought into town. Everyone else knew me as the dog whisperer.
But when you can’t beat them, join them.
“Yup, that’s me,” I lied. “If you can ensure everything is cooked perfectly without any spit, I’ll leave a very positive review.” She nodded in understanding and started off. “Oh! And sangria, please! I’ll take the sangria.”
“I’ll take a sangria, too,” a voice said from behind me, making a wave of rage rush through my system because I knew that voice a little too well.
Cole slid into the chair across from me with a smirk. Oh, how I wanted to knock that smirk from his face!
“What are you doing here?” I whisper-shouted as my anger built to category five within seconds of his arrival.
“I heard a rumor that you might’ve been stood up and—”
“You have got to be kidding me. Cole, you have a lot of nerve showing up here after ruining my date tonight.”
“Was that a date?” he asked, ripping off a piece of bread. My bread. My free bread! The hatred I felt for him stealing bread from me was now high on my list of reasons I loathed my ex-husband. “He didn’t seem like your type.”
I snatched the bread from his hand and shoved it into my mouth. “You know nothing about my type,” I muttered with a stuffed mouth.
Cole arched an eyebrow. “I think I know you better than you know yourself, Yara.”
“Maybe that used to be true, but it’s not anymore.”
“Yara.”
“What, Cole?” I snapped, annoyed by his stupid face.
“Come home.”
I crackled out a chuckle. “What?”
“I think you’ve made your point, okay? Billy told me you went to the courthouse to change your last name from Parker today.”
“I did. I’m a Kingsley.”