Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
When she could speak, her words came out in jerks. “I’m not sure—he should be—doing that job.”
Ransom snorted out another laugh. “Are you kidding? He’s perfect for it.”
Ava got into the story. “People probably come back just so he can check them in.”
“If you ever have to spend the night while you’re visiting your San Juan Bautista facility, you have to come back here. I’m sure he’ll remember you. And he’ll say something totally inappropriate all over again.”
She nodded, another peal of laughter breaking out of her.
Then Ransom said, “But speaking of the hotel room, you charged them both to your credit card. I owe you the money.”
All the laughter seemed to die inside her, as if he’d reminded her that this was just a business trip, when she’d wanted to think of it as something else entirely. Even if she’d stomped away from him when he’d said they could take the next flight out.
Her insides were all messed up around him. One minute she was running and well aware of how bad it could all get, and the next wishing they were going on vacation. It was ridiculous. And she could not have a sexy vacation with him. Not even a sexy date. Because he wasn’t just any man. He was Ransom, and she’d loved him. Anything, even a kiss, had the potential to destroy her all over again.
So she waved a hand. “It’s a business expense. I’m hiring you, therefore I pay for the rooms.”
He didn’t argue, laughing once more. “You certainly got your money’s worth with that guy’s act.”
They dropped their bags in the Pantera’s trunk, which, with the mid-engine setup, was bigger than you’d think. And when she would have climbed into the driver’s seat, Ransom took her arm, turning her as he pointed across the parking lot.
“Look,” he said softly, his mouth right next to her ear.
It took her only a moment to read the sign. “It’s a Pancake House.”
His breath whispered across her hair. “I haven’t eaten a chocolate chip ten-stack at a Pancake House since…” He stopped, and she knew deep in her belly exactly what he was thinking.
Since the last time with you.
“Me either.” Oh God, he was seducing her with memories, and she stiffened her spine to the point where her neck popped. “One, I don’t eat like that anymore.” Okay, she wouldn’t think about the burger and fries they’d had yesterday or the junk food she’d added to the Supermart cart. Thank God she’d left it all behind in the room. “And two, we really don’t have time.”
He was so close, she could smell the aftershave he’d bought at Supermart. It was enough to make her dizzy.
“One, haven’t you heard that breakfast is the most important meal of the day? And two, you know you can’t resist all those chocolate chips covered in all that scrumptious syrup. And three, this is exactly the kind of food that chefs eat after a long night at their five-star restaurants.”
Before she could protest again, he grabbed her hand and pulled her across the parking lot.
As she stepped over the separating curbs in her high-wedge tennis shoes, the sparkly glitter on them caught the morning sun, making her smile. Shopping at Supermart and staying at Motel Y made her smile. Her sundress and Ransom’s flip-flops made her smile. Even the thought of the Pancake House after all these years made her smile.
And most of all, for some terrible reason she couldn’t allow herself to think about right now, Ransom made her smile too.
Oh, she really had gone crazy.
The restaurant was only half full, with fifties music playing at just the right level and the scent of frying bacon filling the air. Once they were seated, Ransom angled the menu so she could see and tapped the ten-stack chocolate-chip pancakes. Without a word spoken between them, when the waitress arrived, he ordered the pancakes with an extra plate to share.
Memories of all the times they’d gone to the Pancake House—every Sunday when he was in town—assaulted her. He could have made pancakes back at the apartment, but there was something about the Pancake House, about the vinyl seats and the Formica tabletops and the waitress with the gravelly voice and kind smile. They didn’t even have to tell her their order. It was always the ten-stack of chocolate-chip pancakes, and they always shared.
Her mouth watered for them now—all that gooey chocolate, all that yummy syrup. And sharing it with Ransom.
When the stack arrived, they devoured it, practically licking the plate between them. God, the memories it brought back. They had so many good rituals. Sunday pancakes. Chopping vegetables together for dinner. Curling up on the couch to watch a movie. Taking a hike in one of the nearby parks. Ransom pulling her into the trees where he could kiss her, touch her, excite her. Making love to her the moment they got home.