Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
We tried to set-up a date several times this past week, but either she had school or I had work, and neither of us could find a time that worked for both of us, until today. One of her professors cancelled class, and she called me eagerly this morning to ask if I was free. Immediately, I proposed meeting up. After all, it’s been exactly one week since I saw her, and I’m man enough to admit that I’m growing needy without her.
Quickly, I pull on something nice, but casual. I’m dressed in a burgundy sweater, dark wash jeans, and—my only good pair of shoes—a pair of brown leather boots. According to the weather, it’ll be a little cold, so I throw on a long, black sports coat over it. Then, I hop into my truck and head over to Prescott, following the directions on my GPS. Rachel lives in a rundown apartment building with an overgrown yard and an ugly shingle roof. But the moment she appears at the door, all thoughts of renovation fly out of my mind.
After all, she’s absolutely gorgeous with her brown curls brushed over one shoulder and a sweet smile on her lips. Over a white, long-sleeved shirt, she’s wearing a lemon-yellow overalls dress. The dress flares out at her waist and stops above her knees, showing off miles of shapely leg. Her white heels clack against the ground as she steps across the pavement and a beautiful smile lights her face when she sees me.
“Hi,” she breathes, holding out her arms for a hug, totally unselfconscious. Immediately, I pull her into my arms, and those soft curves nestle against my hard form. The woman smells sweet and citrusy, and her presence sends my heart racing.
“It’s been a while,” she giggles when I’ve let her go.
“Too long,” I growl roughly. My eyes drop to her mouth. I consider whether or not it’d be too early to kiss her, and then I figure I should act like a gentleman. Rachel already thinks I’m a barbarian as is. “It’s good to see you.”
She smiles and pushes her hair behind her ear. “So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
I laugh. “Only the best pizza joint in Wyoming,” I proclaim, opening the car door for her. “Have you ever heard of Detroit-style pizza?”
She giggles as she gets inside my truck. “No, never.”
“Well, then you’re in for a treat.”
I take her to Lions, Tigers, and Squares, which is about a fifteen minute drive from her apartment. Rachel squeals with delight when we enter because the restaurant is a mom-and-pop pizza parlor with comfy red booths and chrome finishes. The floor is a checkered black-and-white tile, and there’s a long, oak bar that stretches the length of the dining area. Our server seats us in the back, and Rachel giggles as she slides into the booth across from me. “So, Daddy,” she says. “What is Detroit-style pizza?”
Hearing her call me “Daddy” sends shivers down my spine, and I grin and lean forward on my elbows, like I’m telling a secret. “It’s similar to regular pizza, but much better. The pizza’s in squares and has a thick crust that’s crispy, chewy, and buttery all at once.”
Her eyebrows raise. I see she’s intrigued.
I nod again. “With regular pizza, there are different layers that go down in a prescribed sequence. Dough first, and then sauce, and then cheese, and then toppings, right?” She nods. “Well, with Detroit-style, it’s done in reverse. You put down the dough, throw on some Wisconsin brick cheese, add some toppings and then cover it all with tomato sauce.”
She looks confused.
“Really? So do you see the cheese if it’s buried beneath the other ingredients?”
I shrug.
“Sometimes. Sometimes not if it’s covered in sauce. But they’ll also do a racing stripe, which is one stripe of tomato sauce right down the middle of the pizza. It’s delicious.”
Her eyes twinkle. “Oh no. Now I’m even more hungry.”
I raise my hand, flagging down a waitress. “You just lean back, bunny, and I’ll handle this.”
I order each of us a beer and two pizzas: one cheese, the other pepperoni. I usually like more toppings, but I figure it’s best to ease Rachel into this new style of dining. The curvy girl laughs as I guzzle my beer, enjoying the ice cold slide down my throat.
“Thirsty much?”
I chuckle too. “Just getting ready to eat, honey.”
When our food arrives, her face lights up like Christmas tree, radiance shining from her eyes. But she wasn’t lying when she said she was hungry. Without hesitation, the curvy girl helps herself to a slice and scarfs it down in a minute flat. I grin, impressed.
“I love a girl with a big appetite,” I say.
Rachel’s cheeks go red. She starts to apologize in a small, stammering voice, but I shake my head.