Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Damn, do I have a thing for dimples? His is mostly covered in a nice layer of scruff. He hadn’t shaved for the date. I’m not sure what to make of that. Either he thought he didn’t need to because he was charming enough to get laid without trying, or he is only being himself. I’m having a hard time reading which one it is.
“Neither,” he says with a chuckle before offering the menu to Matty and Blake.
“I’d love some champagne,” Blake says without looking at the menu.
“The Moët & Chandon Brut Imperial,” I tell the server for her. It’s Blake’s absolute favorite.
“I thought wines weren't your thing?” Eros tries to tease me back.
“They aren’t, but knowing my best friend is.” I lay that right out on the table for both of them. Fuck with her, that means you fuck with me.
“Shall we do a glass or bottle?” Porter asks.
“Bottle, I’ll have it with you,” Matty offers. Point for him. Blake beams over at him. They really do match well together. This is the first time in a long time that I’ve seen Blake look this happy.
“And for you two?” Porter asks us next. Eros waits for me to answer first.
“I’ll take a Scotch. Glenfiddich but eighteen-year-old, please.”
“I’ll take the same,” Eros says, his eyes never leaving me. I fight not to fidget under his gaze. That’s new for me.
I’m not really one to get nervous. I mean, I grew up with my parents. Having a backbone is a requirement. But there’s something about this man that has me off-kilter. Why is he staring so intensely? More than that, who is Eros? He doesn’t scream money from the way he’s dressed, but the maître d’ knew him. I’m not buying the whole designer thing.
I might not be into high fashion, but I’m around it enough to know what's in and recognize the names. Grams buys me crap all the time to wear when I have to show up to some family event or charity. I just put it on because she has impeccable taste. We don’t even have to go shopping. They deliver the clothing and everything else right to our front door. Grams shuffles through what she wants to keep and tells them to come back and collect whatever is left. Eros is a name I would remember. I can’t place it, but the name does sound familiar.
“I’ll get those drinks right in. Would you like sparkling water or still?”
“Whatever comes out of the tap,” I respond. Eros chuckles under his breath again. His chuckle is sexy. How is that a thing? A chuckle being hot? “What? It’s weird when the water is sparkling. It doesn't taste right.”
“Tap all around,” Eros tells Porter. A boy in all black rushes over to fill our water glasses while Porter removes the wine glasses from the table.
“Are there any food allergies or such I should let Chef Louis know about?” Porter asks.
“I’m a vegan.” The table goes quiet.
“She’s joking.” Blake kicks me under the table while shooting me a glare.
“Ouch, it was only a joke,” I tell Porter, hoping Louis doesn’t actually come out to the table. I've been dodging his sister’s request for a tattoo. Honestly, I was doing the girl a favor after I saw what she wanted done.
She’ll thank me in five years. I’m just not sure Blake is going to thank me after tonight.
CHAPTER 5
EROS
She’s warming up to me. She spoke more than two words, and she smiled in my direction. Progress is being made. I’m not texting my mom and telling her to prepare the wedding party, but it’s better than the cold shoulder I was treated to earlier.
“A scotch drinker?” I tilt my head to get a better look at Morgan. She’s so pretty it makes my teeth ache. And other body parts.
“Is that odd? A girl can’t drink scotch?”
“Booze is gender neutral in my book and goes well with beef bourguignon, which is what I intend to order. You?”
“Snails.”
“Solid choice. It’s a French restaurant, and no one does snails better than the French.”
“You hate snails,” Blake interjects.
“I’m acquiring a taste for them,” Morgan declares with a sweep of her chin. “Besides, Eros says that they’re great here.”
“Flynn, please,” I say. I can’t have my future wife calling me by that dumb name.
“The maître d’ can call you Eros, but the rest of us have to call you by the name of a Disney prince?”
Disney prince? I cast a plea for help in Matty’s direction, but he can only shrug in ignorance.
“Flynn Ryder!” exclaims Blake. “The hero in Tangled.”
Matty and I stare at each other blankly.
“God, cretins,” Blake sighs in what looks like disgust.
“I liked Coco,” Matty tries to save himself. “I watched that three times with the nephews.”
“Flynn’s my middle name,” I add, trying to salvage my own situation. “And it was my great-grandpa’s name, and we don’t have any princes in our family tree.”