Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Ben chuckles as he looks over at Jana. “Is this about him watching her load paper into the copier?”
She nods. “Yep. I knew you clocked that too.”
He snorts. “I’d have to be fuckin’ blind not to have noticed. Tyler’s got no game.”
“Hey! That’s not true. He’s got plenty of game,” I argue.
“If you say so.” Ben shrugs. “Didn’t look like it to me though.”
“Me neither,” Jana says as she takes her bowl out of the microwave.
“Well, he does.”
“They say an eavesdropper never hears anything good about themselves,” Tyler says as he walks into the break room. “Thanks to Ashley, I’d have to disagree. I’m pretty damn okay with what I just heard.” Looking between Jana and Ben, he narrows his eyes. “From her. I’m okay with what I hear from her. You two, on the other hand….”
Ben gives him the finger, and Jana closes her eyes and makes snoring noises. Tyler grins as he walks to me, drops a kiss on my lips, and then moves on to the fridge, where he pulls out his brown bag lunch.
“Grab mine too,” Ben says.
Reaching back into the fridge, Tyler takes out Ben’s lunch—also in a brown bag—and slides it across the table to him.
Setting his lunch down, Tyler takes a seat in the chair next to me and then scoots it closer so we’re as close as two people in separate chairs can be. My heart is beating like four miles a minute, and I just know I’ve got a big goofy grin on my face, but I don’t even care. He turns his head and smiles at me, and just that simple thing turns me into a puddle of goo.
“Babe. Eat before your food gets cold,” he tells me.
Mentally scolding myself about the importance of not looking like a spaced out goofball, I turn to my lunch and pick up my fork and knife. Realizing no one is speaking, I look up and find Jana and Ben looking between Tyler and me with undisguised interest.
“OMG, you two are so freaking adorablllle,” Ben squeals in a high-pitched voice. As he says that, he flaps his hands and bops up and down in his seat, doing his best impression of a teen girl at a K-pop concert.
It would be impossible to try to hold this laugh back, so I don’t bother. Jana is also laughing hysterically.
“Not sure how to feel about the fact that you said OMG instead of oh my God.” Tyler snickers. “I feel like that came super easy to you.”
Ben shrugs as he opens his lunch bag and pulls out a plastic bag with a pretty crispy-looking chicken cutlet in it. “What can I say? I’m just that good.”
“Good God,” Jana grumbles. “Can we talk about the elephant in the room please?”
My stomach clenches. What horribly inappropriate thing is she going to say now?
“What is it with you and all that burnt food lately?” she asks Ben.
Phew. Talk about food is fine.
“I’m trying to stop eating out as much to save money for a house, so I’ve been making shit at home,” he answers. “Thing is, I’m afraid I’m going to poison myself, so I cook it until I’m positive the food’s not raw. Can’t cook for shit and don’t have a woman. It ain’t pretty.”
Next to me, Tyler snorts. “No shit, it’s not pretty. I think that chicken stopped being raw about half an hour before you took it off the stove,” he deadpans.
Ben shrugs. “That’s why I keep this big ass bottle of ketchup on the table here,” he explains. Picking up the bottle, he pops the cap and squeezes a small mountain of it onto the end of his cutlet. After taking a bite, he gives the thumbs-up.
Shaking my head, I cut into my golden-brown, ridiculously delicious pork chop and bring a bite to my lips. Thanks to Millie, I’ll never starve. Thanks to my grandmother and Millie, I also know how to cook. Thank God, because burnt food isn’t for me.
Lunch is interrupted when all three of their walkie-talkies go off at the same time, advising that there’s a 911 call about a three-car accident on the bridge into town. Springing into action, they all stand and shove their uneaten lunches into the fridge. Tyler leans down, drops a soft kiss on my lips, and tells me to finish eating my lunch.
“You’re all mine tonight,” he reminds me.
“I can’t wait.”
He grins and kisses me again, fast, before he sprints out of the break room to go respond to the call.
For the remainder of my break, there’s a massive grin on my face.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
____________________________________
ASHLEY
WHEN TYLER KNOCKS on my front door to pick me up for our date, my stomach is full of butterflies and nervous energy. This is so wild to me. The hottest guy in the world—who just so happens to be my boss—is taking me on a date. Me. Ashley Colton. Whose life is this?