Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“I’ve got all the time in the world, tesoro. Take your time.” He drifted away to the other side of the gallery, stopping in front of my painting and examining it with his back turned to me.
I picked up my phone again and resumed the pictures, getting a few good ones with the natural light. Less than a minute later, the front door opened again. I had a few customers throughout the day, but most of them came in after lunchtime. I put my phone in my back pocket and turned around to welcome a prospective client.
But I came face-to-face with Antonio instead.
Shit.
He didn’t wear that charming smile he usually had. His eyes were exactly the same as the last time I saw him, focused on me like I was a target he wouldn’t allow to escape. In a buttoned-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and dark jeans, he looked as handsome as every other time I saw him.
I thought this moment had passed, but I guess it hadn’t.
He stopped when he came close to me, and then he stared.
I stared back.
I hated this. I hated this obvious connection. It was impossible to stare at someone like this without it being hostile, but somehow, we made it intimate…when we didn’t even know each other. I had the same connection with Bones, and I never wanted to have it with someone else.
But I did.
After a long bout of silence, Antonio spoke. “Have dinner with me.” He cut right to the chase, bypassing all the small talk since it seemed pointless. His arms rested by his sides and he kept a few feet between us, but that didn’t seem like enough distance. It seemed like we were pressed right up against each other, our lips almost touching.
I stared at him without breathing, unsure how to respond. He didn’t even ask me a question, just told me what to do. It didn’t seem like he was giving me a choice in the matter. If I’d met this man a year ago, this situation would have unfolded differently. I wouldn’t have waited three days to ask him out. I would have asked him then and there. But that wasn’t what happened, and I was still in love with the man I’d lost. “I can’t.”
Antonio didn’t react to my rejection. “Why?”
My father was hovering nearby, listening to every word of this conversation. It was bad timing. I didn’t know how to answer Antonio without boring him with my life story. I didn’t want to get into the details of my heartbreak, not when it still brought me to tears. “I’m not dating right now.”
He hadn’t blinked once since this conversation began. His stillness suggested he wasn’t going anywhere, not until he got what he wanted. “Then I’ll wait until you are dating.”
I did my best to control my reaction, but I couldn’t. Surprise stretched across my face.
“Have coffee with me. As friends.”
Even that was too intimate for me, not when I felt this throbbing heat between us. “I can’t…I’m sorry.” I was the first one to break eye contact, the first one to flinch at the power radiating between us both. My heart was still full of one man, full of the love we shared. Even if we weren’t together and we never would be again, Bones was the only man I wanted. To even try to be with someone else right now was futile. And it wouldn’t be fair to Antonio, who would have to compete with a man he could never defeat. “It’s not gonna happen. You should go…”
He stayed put, his eyes slightly shifting back and forth between mine. He hadn’t moved since he’d stopped in front of me. His eyes sped across the surface of my face, flying by at a high velocity. He seemed to be thinking about his next words carefully, how to navigate the intense subject he’d just broached. He probably thought asking me out was going to be simple, just the way it was with all the other woman he picked up and took to bed. He was handsome, artistic, charming, sexy…everything. He never had to lift a finger to get a woman. He never could have anticipated this kind of rejection.
Instead of saying anything else, he turned around and walked out of my gallery. But his silent departure wasn’t full of finality. I knew this conversation wasn’t over. It was simply paused for the time being.
He would be back.
Father and I went to the bakery down the road, the very one I painted.
He got a black coffee and a salad, and I got a cappuccino and a sandwich.
Even though Father heard every word of that conversation, he didn’t mention it to me. He sat across from me at the table and sipped his coffee, his eyes directed out the window most of the time.