Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
“I’m not shaming,” I reply. “That’s just not what I want.”
“And what do you want, Mr. Barrett?”
“Mike,” I correct her, leveling my eyes at hers. I hold the moment before speaking, letting my intention sink in so it’s quite obvious. I mean, it already should be given what I’ve done tonight. “And do I really need to say it?”
Ivy’s cheeks go red, and all I can do is start picturing her without her clothes. There’s just something so pure and sensual about her—there always has been. She wears makeup, but hardly any, and she knows how to dress, but she’s never overdoing it with the latest fashion.
It’s as though she wants to be part of the fashion industry, but at the same time, she doesn’t want to be beholden to it. It’s like she’s above it without even trying to be. And that’s a spot that few models occupy and have spent their whole lives trying to get to.
She’s a girl I could picture wearing any kind of clothes and still looking sexy. I could take her to Walmart, give her thirty dollars, and wait for her in the parking lot, and in twenty minutes, she’d come out looking like she was on her way to Paris fashion week.
And yet still, somehow she doesn’t know she’s that beautiful. Ivy is the world’s greatest paradox.
The next course is a wood grilled hanger steak for me and marinated chicken breast for Ivy. This time she actually eats and lets her enjoyment show on her face, which surprises me. She seems to be loosening up a bit, which I like.
Of course, she has no idea how good I could make her feel. A dinner at 4Pine is just the beginning…
“Would you two like some dessert?” the waiter asks us after clearing away our plates.
“No, thank you,” I reply. “We’ll be getting dessert back at home.”
The young man in his twenties, glances at me, then over at Ivy, then back at me and does his best not to smile. “Very good. Should I just bring the check then?”
“That would be fine.” I nod. Once he’s gone, Ivy leans over the table and hisses at me.
“Dessert back at home? What am I, your wife?”
“Not yet,” I reply.
“Are you kidding me?” she whispers. I chuckle. At least she’s trying to keep her voice down. “You’re never going to stop, are you? When will you just—?”
The waiter returns with the check, and Ivy quickly closes her mouth and slaps a fake smile on her face for his benefit.
“Thank you so much for dining with us tonight at 4Pine,” the waiter says very professionally. “We hope to see you again soon.”
“We hope to see you again as well,” I reply, leaving him a generous tip. I then stand and take Ivy by the hand, which she has no choice but to allow in front of him and all these people, and lead her to the door.
“You are absurd,” she says, her voice slithering into my ear like some kind of sexy snake.
“And your hands are so soft,” I reply. “Do you moisturize?”
She scoffs the moment we’re outside and pulls away, immediately pulling her phone from her purse.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Calling an Uber so I can get a train home.”
I reach out and gingerly pluck her phone from her hands. “Didn’t you hear what I said back there? About us getting dessert?”
Ivy drops her shoulders and her jaw at the same time and glares at me. “You’re joking. Seriously, you’re joking, right?”
“I’m having a great time,” I tell her. “So if you’re going to use that phone for anything, I suggest you use it to call your parents and let them know you won’t be coming home tonight.”
“That I won’t be coming home…” she repeats.
“Let them know a shoot ran longer than expected and you’re going to have to crash at your very gracious boss’s apartment in the city tonight.”
Ivy bursts out laughing. “My very gracious boss?”
“That’s right.” I smile. “Your very gracious boss who just so happens to have vanilla bean ice cream with chocolate shell topping at his apartment.”
If Ivy was a dog, her ears would perk up at hearing that. She bites her lower lip and looks at me skeptically. “Chocolate shell topping? That’s my favorite.”
“I know it is.” I nod. “I remember you talking about it.”
“I didn’t talk about it. I only mentioned it once.”
I shrug. “Good memory, I guess.”
The truth is, I have a terrible memory, but when it comes to people I actually care about or am interested in, I remember everything.
“And I guess I don’t have a choice in this, do I?” Ivy asks.
I grin. “Come on. Vanilla ice cream and chocolate shell at a really nice New York City apartment? Is that really a night to complain about?” I step closer to her, and to my surprise, she doesn’t back away. “Am I really that bad, Ivy?”