Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
It’s innocent, yet I feel like she’s burning through my thick parka. I try to ignore it, blaming every bit of my thoughts on the alcohol we consumed.
The driver pulls up outside Anna’s building and I open my door as I’m closest to the curb. Before I get out, I tell the driver, “I need to go uptown about a mile.”
“Sorry, dude,” he replies. “I already accepted another job.”
“No worries,” I say as I step out, turning to give my hand to Anna. She takes it, alighting onto the curb with a tiny wobble. My hand tightens on hers until she steadies, then I release her.
The driver takes off as soon as I close the door, and Anna pulls out her phone to add a tip for him. I grab my phone, needing to order my own ride, but Anna grabs my wrist. “Might as well come inside to wait where it’s warm.”
“I don’t think—”
“Oh, come on… I made a chess pie yesterday and I have exactly two slices left.”
I look at Anna, cheeks pink from the cold and her hair flowing over her shoulders. Her eyes appear more blue than gray under the warm glow of the lighting coming off her building, and they’re sparkling with a buzz of happiness and alcohol.
I should say no, but I don’t think it’s within my power because I don’t want the night to end yet. I’ve come to enjoy being with her too much. To my deprived soul, the way she fills me up feels too good to give up just yet.
“Fine,” I grumble as I hold my arm out. She hooks hers through mine again, and we head toward the entryway. “I suppose I could test out your baking abilities.”
“Truth be told,” she whispers conspiratorially, “I’m not that great at baking, but it’s chocolate so it’s edible.”
“I’m adventurous, so let’s do it.”
We make our way up to Anna’s apartment, and I try to ignore that little niggling feeling that this is wrong. Normally when I come to a woman’s apartment after a night of drinking, there’s really only one thing I’m thinking about… and that’s sex.
I’m not thinking that now. I swear I’m not.
I might think of Anna in a lot of inappropriate ways—like how much I enjoy being around her or how she’s about the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen, but not once have I ever let my thoughts go toward sex.
And now I’m thinking about sex with her.
Fuck.
As Anna’s unlocking the door, major doubts overwhelm me. “You know what… I think maybe I’ll just order that Uber.”
“Oh, quit being a baby,” she says with a laugh as she pushes the door open. “I swear my pie won’t poison you.”
She moves into her living room before disappearing into the kitchen. I am helpless but to follow her inside because fuck if I want the night to be over.
“Do you want whipped cream on your pie?” Anna calls just as I’m rounding the corner.
She’s already got the pie in front of her, a can of spray whipped cream in her hand, and she’s pulling a knife out of the drawer. She ditched her coat, so I take mine off, tossing it on top of hers where she’d thrown it over a kitchen chair.
“Sure,” I reply, moving to the fridge to grab some waters.
“There’s beer in there if you want,” she remarks.
“I think I’m done with beer tonight.” I chuckle, nabbing two bottles of water.
“God, me too.” Anna groans. “I’ve already got a headache starting.”
I let the door swing shut, putting a bottle of water on the counter before her. “Drink all that water, then one more bottle before you go to sleep.”
“Yes, Dad,” she drawls, shooting me an eye roll.
I open my own water, watching as she takes the remaining piece of pie and cuts it in two. She slides the slices onto two plates, then picks up the can of whipped cream. After giving it a few hard shakes, she aims it at the first slice. I’ll never know if the can itself was defective or maybe it just had a buildup of air, but the minute she presses her index finger on the nozzle, the creamy foam shoots out everywhere, but it mostly covers my entire arm.
“Holy shit,” Anna exclaims with a choked laugh, setting the can down and wiping at my arm with her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” I grumble affectionately, grabbing a dishtowel from the counter.
Anna continues to laugh as I wipe the whipped cream off my flannel shirt. “No, I’m not sorry at all.”
She looks from my arm up to me, smiling in amusement and silly happiness. Without a doubt, she’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. I’m mesmerized as she lifts her hand and touches a finger to the side of my neck. “Bit of cream there.”