Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
What has changed?
“I’m not involved with anyone,” I somehow get out, and he smiles like he just won the lottery. It’s a dazzling grin. All teeth and bright eyes. Heat gathers between my legs, and I brace my hand on the seat of the stool. “But I’ve sworn off dating.”
That has his grin faltering as his eyes bore into mine. “Sworn off dating? Why?”
“Because guys are stupid and waste my time.”
“True—and I don’t claim to be of the smart variety of dudes—but I would make it worth your time,” he tells me, a grin pulling at one corner of his mouth. When that happens, a little dimple forms, and I want to poke it.
Can I poke it?
Is that weird?
Focus, Eliza! He asked you out right after you swore off dating! You can’t say yes. It would go against your principles! Your dignity! I ignore my erratic thoughts and say, “Okay.”
You, Eliza McDavid, are an idiot.
Now, both dimples are flashing at me as he crosses his arms over his chest before leaning on the counter so that there is hardly any distance between us. If I moved even the slightest bit toward him, our noses would touch. As much as I want to lean forward, I lean back instead, putting space between us and trying not to sound too eager. “When?”
His brows knit. “That’s my line,” he chastises me, and I feel my cheeks fill with color. “Do you have plans tonight?”
“Tonight?” I squeak, and then I’m spiraling.
What will I wear? Do I have time to shave my legs? I haven’t waxed my pussy in months, so if this goes well, I’d need to do some bushwhacking so he can actually find my pussy… Wait. No. I’m not sleeping with him tonight, but I will one night soon. Should I leave my hair down? Shit, Lou isn’t here to curl it for me. Damn it.
“Yeah, tonight, seven? Here?”
“Here?” I repeat, and he chuckles softly.
His voice is liquid sex as he purrs, “You’re a damn cute parrot, McDavid.”
I need to bushwhack my pussy because if he ever talks to me like that again, I will be flat on my back for him. No, you will not, my brain tries to tell me, but my pussy roars back, Yes, she will! “Sorry, I just assumed we’d go out.”
He shrugs. “Remember, I want to make it worth your time. Let me cook for you.”
Worth my time… Shit. My smile fades away, and I almost glare up at him. “Are you inviting me over for sex?”
He actually looks wounded at my words and glances away as he lets out a long breath. “I know people talk shitty about me, and this town seems to think I’m a whore—”
“I don’t know anything about that,” I insist, and he looks back at me, surprised. His jaw is tight, his eyes sharp as they hold mine. “I don’t listen to gossip around this town because they’ve said very bad things about my sisters and me, and none of it has been true.” I hold up a finger and correct myself, “Okay, the rumor about my sister and her fiancé getting it on in front of the store did happen, but that’s the only true thing.”
I’m rambling. I sound like a fool, but when I meet Coleson’s gaze, he doesn’t seem to mind. “I’m not inviting you over for sex, I promise. I just want to cook for you and discuss the coffeehouse.”
I perk up at that. He wants to discuss the coffeehouse! That’s awesome. But then I realize this isn’t a date; it’s a meeting. I cover my face with one hand and groan. I pull my hand away to find him watching me. “I wish you had led with that. Would have saved us both the bit about sex.”
“Huh?” he grunts, and I try to laugh, but I sound fake.
It doesn’t mask my hurt or my idiocy. I just sound dumb. I clear my throat before taking a swig of my tea to buy myself some time. He waits patiently, and when I can’t avoid his grunt any longer, I say, “I wish you had led with us just talking about the coffeehouse. I assumed you were asking me out, out.”
“I am,” he says automatically. “I just said the no-sex thing because you freaked out.”
I eye him. Does he want to have sex with me? No. Wait. I shouldn’t ask that. Instead, I blurt, “So, this is a date?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re cooking for me? Here?”
“Yes, here at seven.”
“For us to eat and chat.”
“For us to eat and chat,” he confirms. “I just want to show you a good time, McDavid.”
Sex would be a great time, but I refrain from saying that. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeats, and once more, I’m assaulted by those dimples.
“I hope our conversation tonight isn’t a whole bunch of us repeating each other.”