Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
But I don’t. I march into his living room, surreptitiously wipe my hands on the bottom of my dress, and then come to a dead stop when I see his dining room table. Because his condo, like mine, is an open layout, his dining room table separates the living room and kitchen. It’s laid out with formal candlesticks with long tapered candles in them, and they are glowing. He’s got plates set out formally, and by formal I mean he put little folded paper towels beside them with a fork, knife, and spoon on top. There’s a bottle of wine in the center of the table and two wineglasses half filled with ruby red liquid. Perhaps it’s from seeing the table set so nicely, but I involuntarily inhale to check out the scent in the air I’d vaguely noticed when I came in.
Tomato sauce and cheese.
I turn to look at Reed, who is watching me closely.
“What is this?” I ask softly as I gesture to the table.
He shrugs. “Just thought I’d cook you dinner.”
I noticed he said you and not us.
“You don’t cook,” I reply stupidly.
One corner of Reed’s mouth lifts, then twitches. “How do you know I don’t cook? You’ve only seen me order pizza or meals from a restaurant, but that doesn’t mean I can’t cook.”
“You said you hate to cook,” I remind him.
“Well maybe I make exceptions sometime,” he counters.
I sniff again and realize there is a subtle hint of something that I had missed before. “It smells like something’s burning.”
For a brief moment I can tell that statement doesn’t penetrate Reed’s mind, but then his body jolts as he lunges past me into the kitchen. He utters a string of curses when he opens the oven door and black smoke slithers out. Reed slaps at the temperature controls to turn the oven off and let’s five F-bombs slide out of his mouth as he pulls what looks like a burned lasagna from the oven. My hand slaps to my mouth to cover the snicker that wants to pop out when I notice that the lasagna is actually the frozen kind in a foil pan.
“Goddammit,” Reed sighs as he stares at the charred cheese on top.
“Maybe we can pick the burned stuff off,” I suggest with a little chuckle. “Or we can drink the wine first, get really drunk, and then we wouldn’t notice how it tastes.”
Reed slowly tilts his face to look at me, and I can see he’s not taking my suggestions kindly. He gives me a frustrated look and asks, “How do you feel about frozen pizza?”
I grin back at him. “As long as you let me cook it.”
“I can cook a damn frozen pizza, Josie,” he grumbles.
“I’m really, really hungry, Reed. So let’s not risk it and let me cook the pizza.”
This is all hysterically funny to me, and I’m assuming at some point Reed’s going to start laughing it off. However, he looks more disgruntled than when he realized his lasagna was burning.
I take a step closer to him and ask, “What’s going on here?”
If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it, but Reed’s face actually flushes and red tinges his cheeks. He shrugs and mumbles, “I just thought I’d make you a nice meal.”
I reach a hand out and lay it on his arm giving him a slow squeeze. “That’s very sweet. But you know I’m a no-fuss kind of girl. Pizza would have been fine.”
Reed’s face is like a blank mask as he stares at me. Most times, I can imagine the wheels turning inside of his head before he even says something. It’s like he’s at a complete loss as to what to say to me now. I don’t understand why he would be struggling with this, because it’s just me. I’m just Josie, his friend.
I can’t tear my eyes from his as I wait for him to start processing something. I’m surely confused, but he doesn’t seem to be…anything. Just staring at me blankly as if he’s waiting for an answer to come to him.
Long moments pass and we enter into the realm of awkwardness. I decide to make light of the matter and possibly drop a really funny joke just to get Reed to snap out of it. I open my mouth, the words perched on the end of my tongue to set things straight, but I’m utterly shocked down to my toes when Reed’s hands fly out to grab me by my shoulders. He pulls me toward him so quickly I let out a squeak of fright, then I actually gasp when his mouth crushes down on mine.
My first thought is that Reed has lost his ever-loving mind.
That slithers away and is immediately replaced with, Oh my God…Reed is kissing me.
Oh good God.