Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Anthony? Didn’t you date a guy with the same name last year?”
“Yeah,” I say sluggishly, unsurprised she remembers that particular fiasco.
The expression on her face tells me that the cogs in her brain are moving. “I thought you weren’t going to see him again,” she says, brows drawing together.
Viola and I have always been protective of one another. When Madden hurt her senior year of high school, I threatened to kick his ass. Sure, I would have needed to bum a ride to do it, but that doesn’t change the fact that I would have. And when he showed up at the door a month ago, wanting to see Vi, I nearly took his head off.
My cousin is very much the same where I’m concerned.
And I love her for it.
After the date in question, I came home and cried on her shoulder, embarrassed by my reaction, wishing I could be less sensitive about the scar.
“You’re right, at the time, I was uncomfortable. But I’ve decided to give him another chance. He’s actually a really nice guy.”
That’s the only truth sprinkled on top of all the lies. Anthony is a nice guy, but I can’t get past his reaction. Thinking about it still makes me cringe, which is why I hate running into him on campus.
She studies me carefully before nodding. “I think it’s great you’re giving him another chance.”
Her acceptance of the situation has my chest loosening, making it easier to breathe. “Yeah.”
“Are you two meeting up at the Roasted Bean?”
“No. We decided on a coffee shop downtown.”
Her brows pinch together. “How are you getting there?”
I inch toward the door, only wanting to make a hasty getaway. “I was going to walk.”
The cereal all but forgotten, she scoops up her keys from the breakfast bar that separates the kitchen from the dining area. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”
I give my head a violent little shake. “No, that’s not necessary. I don’t mind walking. The cold air will help clear my thoughts.”
“Don’t be silly,” she says with a snort. “I’ll drive you, and if he doesn’t give you a ride home, just shoot me a text and I’ll pick you up. It’s not like I’ve got any plans other than studying my ass off.” She adds with a grumble, “The semester just started and already there are a ton of tests.”
“Guess that’ll teach you to major in engineering,” I tease lightly.
“You got that right. I’m not sure what I was thinking.”
“That you’re a whiz at math and science and wanted to use that big brain of yours for good instead of evil.”
She shoots me an easy smile. “And here I was thinking I was just a glutton for punishment.”
“That, too.”
We slip into our jackets before heading out the door. Less than ten minutes later, she pulls up in front of a fancy coffee shop on the main drag in town. The street is dotted with restaurants, specialty shops, and coffeehouses.
She stares at the pretty storefront from the driver’s side of the car. “Is this the right one?”
I nod before flicking a quick look her way. The last thing I want is for her to see the anxiety filling my eyes and offer to come in with me.
“Yup. Thanks again. I really appreciate it.”
“I told you—it’s not a problem. And I’m serious, call or text if you want me to pick you up.”
“I will.” My fingers wrap around the handle before popping it open and slipping from the vehicle.
“Have a great time,” she says in a raised voice right before I slam the door shut.
Yeah, I can’t imagine that happening.
Like, at all.
My plan is to tackle this encounter like I did with my first shift at Slap Shotz…
Paste a pleasant smile on my face and muddle through it the best I can.
With one final wave, I head inside and watch as Viola’s white Jeep pulls away from the curb and disappears into traffic. Only then do I slip from the café and rush down the sidewalk. I picked this coffeehouse knowing that it was only two blocks from the hotel.
It takes less than five minutes before I’m standing in front of the sprawling stone structure. The place is lavish. At Christmastime, it’s decorated with a life-size gingerbread house in the lobby.
It’s that kind of fancy schmancy place.
I draw in another deep breath before forcing myself to walk through the glass doors and to the counter. The heels of my boots echo off the ocean of glossy marble. With every step, my nerves multiply until it feels like my entire body is a live wire humming with them. If this continues, I’ll probably end up having a heart attack. Then I won’t have to worry about selling my V-card to some old man.
I’ll be dead.
The elegantly dressed woman behind the long stretch of gleaming counter glances at me and reinforces her smile. “Welcome to the Wiltshire Hotel. Will you be checking in with us today?”