Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
He sadly shakes his head at me. “And you say I am wrong all the time.”
Over by the bar, Harold stands and clears his throat. “If I could have everybody’s attention for a minute!”
“What’s going on?” asks Shanti.
“There’s something I want to say. No, I need to say it.”
Harold is once again decked out in his fishing gear. His worn and windswept face is earnest as he waits. Gradually the sounds of chatter and silverware scraping against plates fall quiet. Shanti turns down the music. Even the barista, the waitress, and the cook in the kitchen pause their work. So does one of Ava’s friends from last night. She sits at a nearby table with a child busy downing a milkshake.
Which is when Harold turns toward us. We both freeze like a pair of deer caught in headlights, only the oncoming car isn’t a vehicle, it’s a freight train and we are fucked. So much for a nice, relaxing breakfast.
“The thing is, we owe you two an apology,” he says, loud and clear. “I am sorry you weren’t welcomed to town properly, Riley. You should never have had to walk in on us all discussing and judging you when we hadn’t even met you yet.”
“Thank you, Harold,” I say with a polite smile.
Then he turns to Connor. “Son, seeing you sitting there smiling and happy with your new girl makes me feel ashamed of myself. You know your own heart and mind. We should have respected that instead of believing we knew best and shoving all our opinions at you all the time.”
Connor says nothing. He just tips his chin. But there’s a slight sheen to his eyes. Like the old man’s words mean more to him than he’s willing to show. This situation has isolated him more than I imagined. He takes a deep breath and drains the last drops from his cup.
“Nicely said, Harold,” says Shanti.
People nod and smile. Conversation starts again in low voices. The big shiny coffee machine hisses and steams as the barista gets back to work. I’m happy my fake date’s been validated. It’s long overdue. However, thank goodness that’s finished. There’s a chance I underestimated how many times I would have to perform in public in front of an audience. Fake dating is harder than it seems.
I lean forward and smile. “Want to get out of here?”
“Yeah,” says Connor, pushing back his chair and standing.
But alas. Harold isn’t done yet. As evidenced when he picks up his glass of water and strikes the side loudly with his spoon. He announces at the top of his voice, “Let’s see you two kiss!”
CHAPTER NINE
This is wild. You would think we were on a stadium kisscam with all the clapping and cheering. I can only assume they’ve had too much caffeine.
Connor holds out his hand to me. He pulls me to my feet, draws me in close, and whispers, “You okay with this, Riley?”
“We have to do it.”
He nods his acceptance, but he doesn’t look happy.
Every eye is on us. Even the child with the milkshake is slurping as she stares. Perverts and voyeurs—all of them. If they’re so desperate to see something, they should go watch porn like a normal person. Or for a hit of romance, I recommend the film or TV versions of Pride and Prejudice. Both are great. But no. The whole room waits on us with bated breath.
Connor leans down, and I reach up, and our mouths meet. A fleeting touch of warm lips, and we’re done. Okay. Good job. I tuck my hair behind my ears and face our audience with a smile. Only no one is smiling back. What with last night’s live sex show they were apparently expecting more. Much more.
“Pathetic,” says the barista, a young white man with a mullet and moustache.
An older lady wearing linen and pearls scoffs audibly. “I’ve seen cousins kiss with more passion.”
Shanti winces.
Ava’s friend is busy texting her heart out.
The worst thing, however, is how disappointed Harold seems. His gaze is both sad and confused. As if we have shaken his faith. Like he might just take back his speech. Shit.
Connor frowns. “Let’s go.”
“No. Wait.” We can do this. Though preparation is required first. I find a tube of lip balm in my purse and apply a generous coating. “Just give me a minute.”
“What on earth is she doing?” someone mutters.
Next, I down the remaining water from my glass. Anxiety is making me desert dry. The Sahara wishes it was me.
“Riley?” asks Connor, sounding bewildered.
There has been an assortment of first kisses in my life. From the good to the bad and the downright forgettable. But none quite like this. I turn to face my friend. “Can you come back down here for a second?”
He does as asked and I slide my hands around the back of his thick, muscular neck. Such smooth skin. Strands of soft hair brush against my knuckles. There’s definite curiosity in his eyes. But there’s trust there too. Strong hands hold my hips in a gentle grip, and we are a go for this performance. Though the closer we get, the less I care about who’s watching. It could be him and me alone for all I care.