Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“I’m glad it wasn’t a total loss. Um, where in Malibu are you now?”
“The neighborhood above Point Dume,” he answers.
“So you’ll be driving past the burger joint on PCH,” I point out.
He smirks as he nods. “I should’ve known you’d want that. The usual, right? Sourdough burger, large curly fries, and a vanilla Coke.”
I’m surprised he remembers my order, even though we went through that drive-through at least a half-dozen times during the two months we dated. His old house is right off PCH, not too far from the burger joint. Although Mason gravitated to food from places like Nobu, he was always willing to eat greasy fast food because I like it. It was one of the things I’d found endearing about him—that he cared about my likes and dislikes. I loved that he never made me feel small or annoying.
The one and only time I dated a man with money before Mason was a disaster. Darryl spent every second of the two dates we’d gone on trying to impose his wants and his lifestyle on me. After that, I’d promised myself I’d never date anyone with money again. I’m a normal girl, born and raised in North Hollywood. If I weren’t the assistant manager at the Tiffany store on Rodeo, Mason and I never would have met. He’d come in to pick up something from a friend’s wedding registry and left with a little something extra, namely my phone number. I’d given it to him against my better judgment, worried he’d be a rich prick. Instead, Mason was down-to-earth, real, and far from snobby. Looking back, I think it would’ve been impossible for me not to fall for him, hard.
I didn’t get my heart back when we split up.
Fearing my voice might crack if I talk right now, I nod to let him know that he’s right about my order. Needing a moment without him looking at me, I take my phone from my purse and hand it to him. My heart skips a few beats while I stare at the top of his head as his thumbs rapidly move across my phone screen. He seems… different somehow. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s been a change.
When he looks up from the phone and catches me studying him, he grins. I can feel a blush spreading across my cheeks as I take the phone. I feign indifference as I drop the phone back into my purse and pull my keys out. As I do, a thought bubbles to the surface of my mind.
“Wait a second,” I snap. “It’s awfully damn suspicious that you just happened to be in the shittiest restaurant in Los Angeles at the exact same time I was in here on a date. What the hell, Mason?”
The look on his faces confirms that this was no accident. He assesses me for a few seconds as he chooses his words. “After all this time not being able to get ahold of you, I had to reach out to Carly a few days ago. I told her I was coming back early and basically threw myself at her mercy in the hopes that she’d give me your number, but she ignored me until she texted a little over an hour ago to say that you were on a date and it was now or never if I really wanted to talk to you. I broke pretty much every speed limit to get here.”
Suddenly, Carly insisting I pay special attention to my hair and makeup tonight makes far more sense than it did. I thought she’d lost her mind and was thinking my blind date was going to wind up being husband material or something—a ludicrous idea, even before I met Ham. Now I realize she was really setting me up to see Mason. That little shit is in so much trouble with me. She’s damn lucky I’ve got bigger things on my mind now.
“I’m allowed to date,” I remind him.
He grimaces and rubs at his forehead. “Enough talk of dating,” he says stiffly. “Let me walk you to your car so we can get this show on the road. The sooner we get going, the sooner we can get back to my house to talk.”
I nod, then gesture with my chin to where my black Prius is parked. “I think I can make it thirty steps without an escort.”
“I’m not sure about that in this fucking neighborhood,” he snaps. “That guy was a fucking dick for making you come to the middle of LA for dinner—and to the world’s biggest shithole at that.”
I can tell he’s really not into this neighborhood because after he sees me to my car he stands and waits until I’ve closed and locked my door before he walks away.