Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“She got a job offer in Minneapolis and took it.”
I sip my second cup of coffee, that’s now lukewarm.
“You seeing anyone?”
My gaze follows my cup as I set it on the table. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.” He runs his hand through his thick, blond hair before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.
“I’ve been seeing this guy off and on. I like him, and he’s fun.”
“That’s code for he’s good in bed?” One of Carson’s eyebrows peaks. He knows.
Biting my lower lip, I nod.
He nudges my leg. “How good?”
“Jealous?”
He twists his lips. “Should I be?”
I shut my laptop and rest my head on my hands. “I don’t know. I’m not sure it’s some God-given gift. It’s pheromones. Chemistry. Something more than memorizing the playbook. It’s not better.” Lifting my head, I shake it. “Or maybe it is. I’m not sure. It’s just different. We almost fit. And that’s almost a great feeling.”
Carson chuckles. “Almost? Isn’t close enough good enough?”
“Close is worse than completely being the wrong fit. It’s like the puzzle piece that almost fits. You try it a hundred different ways because it’s so damn close, and you want it to be the right piece.”
“So what’s the snag? Why is he not the perfect fit?”
Grunting a quick laugh, I gaze over Carson’s shoulder because I can’t tell him the truth and look him in the eye. “He doesn’t like my favorite book.”
Silence.
After a good ten seconds, I risk direct eye contact.
“I’m sorry. Did you say he doesn’t like your favorite book?”
I knew he’d react this way, but I still frown like I expected a different reaction. “If a girl you liked didn’t like your dog, it would be a dealbreaker, and you know it.”
He sits up straight, withdrawing his leg from its spot next to mine. “Yo … you know my dog’s name is Gilbert, and you can’t compare a dog to a book. Sorry. Nice try. Now tell Mr. Almost Perfect that you screwed up and let a book get in the way.”
“I love Gilbert, and you know it, but I don’t love you at the moment, even if we’re forever friends with benefits. Just because you don’t read anything that’s not a blog doesn’t make books anything short of the perfect soulmate.”
“Whoa … maybe I need to read this soulmate book.”
“No. You don’t. If you don’t love it, we’ll be over. If you do love it, you’ll have to marry me. And if I’m being frank, I have a slight dog allergy.”
“Seriously?” He cocks his head to the side.
My nose scrunches. “Seriously. I love him but I always leave with an itchy throat, watery eyes, and some phlegm.”
“You’re right. I can’t read the book and risk having to marry you. If I have to choose, I’ll choose Gilbert.”
I smile. “If I were in your shoes, I'd choose him too. Allergies aren’t sexy, and I won’t lick your legs after you get back from jogging. I know that’s important to you.”
“So … maybe we save you from phlegm and just go to your place tonight if you have no intention of choosing Mr. Almost Perfect over your hardbound soulmate.”
I slide my laptop into my bag. “My copy is a paperback.”
“That’s unfortunate.” Carson has a special kind of sarcasm that makes it impossible to keep a straight face.
“It really is.” I sling my bag over my shoulder and head toward the door.
Carson slides past me to open it. “Did you bike?”
“You betcha.” I nod toward the black horseshoe-shaped beam with my bike locked to it.
“I can give you a ride home, and we can get your bike in the morning.”
“It’s supposed to rain. And I’m uncomfortable leaving my new bike here all night. That lock isn’t top-notch.”
“I’ll drive slowly then.” He unlocks his car while I open my chain.
“The race is on.” I wink and take off before he gets into his silver Mercedes. I don’t intend to sleep with him, but I need the comfort of something or someone besides my wandering thoughts.
Despite crawling through the streets of downtown and intentionally hitting all the red lights, he still beats me to my apartment. I push my bike past him as if I don’t see him leaning against the maple tree with one leg crossed over the other, looking quite casual.
“Who’s letting Gilbert out?” I ask as if I’m talking to the wind, looking straight ahead at the door.
Carson pushes off the tree and follows me. “My neighbor.”
“The one you slept with?”
“You’ll have to be more specific.” He opens the door after I swipe my card over the reader.
“Such a manwhore.”
“Yet, here you are … taking me to your place for the night.”
“Not to have sex.” I lock up my bike and head up the stairs.
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa …” He grabs my hand to stop me.