Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
“You’re a former FBI agent and current badass private investigator. You make pizza dough from scratch and top it with figs and shit, not pepperoni. Your first thought on what to do to spend the day together is hike. No shade on hikers, and I’d probably get some good photos along the way, but huffing and puffing my way up Camelback Mountain, getting sweaty and gross, is not exciting to me.”
“So we won’t hike.”
“Okay. But so far, mostly what we do when we’re together is watch TV and talk deep shit about our lives, and make no mistake, I love learning about you. But I think we could both use a break from deep shit.”
His was smirking sexily when he said, “Agreed.”
“And I’m not sure I’m up for a day of watching more movies.”
“Same. Do you travel?”
“Sorry?”
“We could take a day trip to Prescott or Sedona.”
I relaxed.
Maybe I wasn’t totally boring.
“I love Prescott and Sedona,” I told him.
“Then I’ll make you coffee and a bagel and get dressed while you chill with some breakfast. I’ll take you to your place so you can get ready. And we’ll head out. Is that a plan?”
“It’s a total plan.”
He tipped his head to the side. “So, do you travel?”
I nodded eagerly. “It’s not like I head out and discover Arizona every weekend, and I wish Bisbee wasn’t too far away. That’s definitely an overnighter trip, but if you haven’t been there, you have to go. Though, I hit Sedona to peace out or Prescott to chill out. They’ve got totally different vibes, but they’re both awesome.”
“Right, babe, but do you travel?”
His stress on the word “travel” had me tensing again.
“I’m not exactly financially in a position to jet to Paris,” I noted.
“Do you want to jet to Paris?” he asked.
There were a lot of things in life I wanted that I’d learned a long time ago I couldn’t have.
As such, this was threatening to get us into deep territory, so I answered, “I never really thought about it.”
“Paris is the first thing you mentioned when you talked about traveling,” he noted.
Oh shit.
“Honey,”—his hands gave me a squeeze—“we’re real. We share. That’s the deal. You don’t have to bare all. If you don’t feel like talking about this because it leads you to a place you don’t want to be right now, we won’t. But just tell me that. Don’t hide from me. Yeah?”
“I’ve never really had the money to go far, but I’ve been to Anaheim, four times. And Orlando, twice,” I blurted.
He blinked.
Oh God.
He liked me.
I liked him.
I wanted this.
I wanted him.
His ex might be an issue, but…whatever.
He wouldn’t even let me stretch to get my own wineglass.
And he wouldn’t let me be alone in my gloom.
I had to give it to him.
If this worked, he’d find out eventually.
So I squared my shoulders and informed him, “Eric, I’m a Disney chick.”
He blinked again.
And then a repeat of him busting out laughing.
I shoved at his chest in affront.
He rocked back maybe half an inch before I was plastered to him again with his face in my neck.
“Holy fuck,” he said there, still laughing, and his next vibrated with it, “Disney.”
“A lot of people like Disney,” I defended. “There are millions of us.”
He pulled his face out of my neck to look down at me. “There are big crowds at those amusement parks.”
I didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s impossible to get pissed at rude people in one of the Magic Kingdoms. That’s the magic part of the kingdom. Among other magic they offer there.”
He chuckled. Loudly.
I huffed.
He framed my face in his hands and whispered, “I honestly didn’t think you could be cute. But you are. Adorable.”
“I hate to rain on your cuteness parade, but the go-to for neglectful parents is to park their children in front of kids’ movies, and some of my only good memories growing up were watching The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast and Mulan.”
That wiped the amusement off his face, and…damn.
I wished I’d kept my mouth shut.
“Honey,” he murmured.
“Jeff loved Robin Hood. My favorite was Peter Pan.”
He wrapped his hands warmly around the sides of my neck. “That tracks.”
Jeff: right wrongs and be a hero.
Check.
Me: escape to a magical world that didn’t have adults.
Check again.
“I feel like I’ve bummed you out, and I’m sorry,” I mumbled.
“Jessie, sweetheart, don’t be. The reason why you dig Disney sucks, but that’s part of why Walt built what he did. So all kids, no matter what kind of lives they had, could have some joy. And you needing to turn to that to find joy doesn’t make it any less adorable you still dig it enough to get your Disney on.”
I said nothing, but what he said made me calm down.
Though, I could tell I wouldn’t like what came next when the teasing light hit his black eyes.