Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Fable lifts an opinionated finger. “Chanterelles, honey. Those are the best.”
“Good to know,” the woman says, then turns back to me. “Also, you two are seriously the cutest.”
I bump shoulders with Fable, proud of my talented friend. “Thanks. She’s a goddess at jewelry-making.”
My colleague snorts. “Rachel, I’m pretty sure she’s talking about you and the hottie.”
My cheeks heat. Oops. “Oh. Right.”
“How long have you been together?” the woman asks.
I shake my head, dismissing that notion. I am definitely not trying to present myself as his girlfriend. I don’t want anyone to think I’m trying to ride the coattails of his local sports fame. “We’re just friends,” I emphasize.
The woman snort-laughs.
That’s…bold.
But okay, she can have her opinion. Rachel 2.0 isn’t going to be a jerk anymore.
“Well, everyone is shipping you,” she adds.
“They are?” That’s news to me.
“Especially after the eggplant comment,” she says.
Ah. That makes sense. Carter texted me earlier today. When I first opened it, his I need to give you a heads-up about something had me worried.
But then he’d sent the clip and added: If they only knew what you plan on doing with my eggplant, just imagine the comments.
Relieved, I’d laughed. Because even though I was making a dick joke, it was still a friendly one. I replied: If they only knew how much you liked a pair of melons with eggplant, just imagine those comments.
The woman pulls out her phone and shows me the latest.
He’d be the best boyfriend.
He is seriously boyfriend goals.
And you two are soooo adorbs.
My heart warms. He is the best. But it’s not fair to him to let people presume we’re together. So once more, I say, “We are truly great friends.”
She grins. “Maybe he’d date me, then.”
What??? I want to lunge at her.
No, he won’t date you. He won’t date anyone if he can’t date me—don’t you get it?
Whoa. Where did that nasty, green-eyed creature come from?
I try to shake off the jealousy. To accept that Carter’s an unattached man. If I want to make it clear that we’re just friends—friends with temporary benefits—I have to acknowledge that he’s on the market.
“You never know,” I say, hoping my breezy tone is believable. “But I hope your farmers’ market date is great.”
I hope it goes so well you marry the guy and have ten babies.
“Me too,” she says, then her gaze snags on a sun pendant. “I think I’ll take this necklace too.”
“It’s going to look great on your date,” I say, and you will tell your future children all about the night you met their dad.
As I’m wrapping it up, she glances at her phone one more time, then at me with a thoughtful look. “You know, you should make an eggplant necklace.”
When she leaves, I’m no longer strategizing how to tie her hands so she can never swipe right on Carter. I’m whipping my gaze to Fable, already picturing the purple veggie hanging on a silver chain. That’s brilliant. That’s like money-tree-level brilliant.
“Can you do that?” I whisper. The idea is too precious to say aloud.
“I’m on it,” she says, then I hear a familiar voice.
“Looks like you two are up to trouble.”
Warmth sizzles down my spine. “You came by,” I say, a smile overtaking me when Carter strolls closer. Did my words come out kind of dreamy-sounding? I think they did.
“We were getting some ice cream,” he says, nodding toward his teammate. Malik Hamlin’s by his side.
“He treated me. Because I’m better than him,” Malik deadpans.
“At what?” I ask, taking the bait.
“Everything,” Malik says.
Carter laughs. “Whatever you tell yourself to sleep better.”
Malik’s gaze strays to our table and to some chains for men. “Oh, sweet. I need a new gold chain,” he says.
“You’d look fine in this one,” Fable says, tapping one for him.
He meets her gaze. “You think so?”
“I’m never wrong,” she says.
There’s a glint in Malik’s eyes as he says, “I’ll take it.”
Damn. Easiest sale ever.
Carter shoots me a look that says Damn, Malik moves fast.
I give him one that says I know!
Then, I let my gaze linger on Carter a little longer. His forest-green T-shirt hugs his pecs and shows off his biceps. The ends of his hair are a little wet.
While Fable rings up Malik’s purchase, Carter leans a little closer. “Thanks for the shirtless soap,” he says in a low voice, just for me.
A tingle rushes down my chest. I feel fizzy and good in a way that’s more than sexual, even though I know this thing between us is an experiment with an end date. Yes, I want mirror sex, but I also want to do something for him.
“Rain check on our plan tomorrow night? But it’s for a lesson on my knees.”
His eyes say hell yes as he nods. Maybe even growls.
Ha, take that. He’s mine for a little longer.
30
THE LUCKY SPATULA
Carter
Guys with big dicks get no sympathy. I get it. It’s a gold-plated problem. But here’s what no one tells you about a large hammer.