Don’t Forget Me Tomorrow (Time River #2) Read Online A.L. Jackson

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Time River Series by A.L. Jackson
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Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 128801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
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The middle section was set with long tables, done community style with a bunch of chairs on each side.

I wound them through the mess to an open booth that overlooked Manchester.

Caleb slipped into the booth on the left, and Ezra slid in on the right, moving to the window so Ryder could sit next to him.

Ryder who tapped his long, thick fingers on the tabletop in a mesmerizing rhythm as he slung his long body back in the booth.

Not that I noticed or anything.

Clearing my throat, I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “What can I get you to drink to get you started?”

“I’ll take one of those strawberry iced teas.” Ryder said it without hesitation.

“I wasn’t even asking you,” I teased. “Don’t you ever get bored of having the same thing?”

Gunmetal eyes gleamed. “Never.”

I got the order for Caleb’s coffee and Ezra’s regular iced tea, then wound my way back toward the kitchen area.

On this side ran a bar, done in the same gray wood as the booths, one half with six high stools where patrons could sit, and to the left of it was the bakery display case and coffee bar. Behind it were counters and the swinging door that led into the kitchen.

I went behind the bar and got to work on their drinks, taking a quick glance at Beth, my manager on staff today and also one of my best friends. She was leaned into the display case, restocking chocolate chip cookies that had just come out of the oven.

“Do you need anything?” I asked her as I worked.

“Nope,” she said. “Think we have everything handled. Food is coming out fast and customers are happy and these cookies smell like heaven. Can’t get better than this. I don’t know how you do it, but what comes out of your oven is pure magic.”

“I need to have something going for me,” I teased.

“Oh, you have something going for you, all right. And every day they just get better. Think half the restaurant is hypnotized by the smell. You just keep doing the good work, and I’ll take care of the rest. Well, except for your man over there. You go take care of him because I don’t think there is anyone else who can do it.”

She angled a waggish brow at Ryder’s table, her dark eyes gleaming and her red lips pulled into a massive smirk.

I groaned at her. “Don’t you even start.”

Beth never failed to give me crap about Ryder.

“Don’t you start. That boy is here every other day, hanging around like a puppy dog, nothing but a mutt begging for food.”

“Um, yeah, he does come to eat,” I drew out.

“Looks to me like you’re feeding him the wrong thing.”

I followed her line of sight to catch Ryder staring our way before he turned his head back to something Caleb said.

“Hardly.” I scoffed it as I focused on organizing their drinks on a tray because what she was insinuating was totally absurd, all while I fought the tingly sensation that billowed across the room.

Picking up the tray, I started around the counter, and she hollered after me, “You keep trying to convince yourself he’s not salivating for a taste of that cute butt of yours.”

I cringed.

Awesome.

She’d announced it to half the restaurant.

No doubt, someone was currently calling my mom to speculate just who was salivating.

And I wasn’t sure my butt could be called cute. There was a whole lot of junk in my trunk, but I did have to admit it looked pretty damn good in this dress. The red fabric shifting around my thighs and the v of the neckline dipping between my breasts.

My gaze fixated on the table I was walking toward. The three of them were some of the closest people to me in my life. Still, I always felt like I was chasing down a storm every time I stepped into Ryder’s vicinity.

The man his own brand of chaos where he sat there looking both raw and smooth.

I didn’t know how it was possible, but he made it look easy.

Stepping up to their table, I passed out their drinks. “Here we go.”

A round of thanks went up, and I eased back, doing my best to ignore the energy that forever vibrated from Ryder.

Intense and severe and somehow effortless.

Enigmatic.

Entrancing.

I cleared my throat. “Do you know what you want to eat today?”

“Tell me more about that Monte Cristo,” Ryder said, turning the full force of his attention on me.

I fiddled with the end of my ponytail. “Well, I can’t take credit for this recipe since it’s pretty traditional—ham and swiss stuffed between two pieces of French toast, dipped in batter, and deep fried, then coated in powdered sugar and served with a side of homemade raspberry jam.”

Even still, it was freaking delicious. Done my own special way because I’d never serve something mediocre or mundane.



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