Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Sitting down, he leans forward with a smile, his eyes sparkling, making him look somehow younger… not that he needs to look younger. He seems so interested in me. Or is ‘obsessed’ a better word, and is that a good thing?
I open the package, wrapped in brown paper, a smile lighting up my face when I see what’s inside—a leather-bound notebook with words inscribed on the front. Your imagination awaits… There’s a pen too.
“I recognize this brand name,” I mutter, picking the pen up.
He nods. “It’s a good pen. Hopefully, it’ll help your character come to the right conclusion.”
I flip the lid off and open the notebook. This is the most special and romantic thing anybody has ever done for me, which, weirdly, is why the need to play this cool is even more urgent than before. I draw a table and two columns, putting headings above each.
To Love.
Not To Love.
“That is the question,” he mutters when I show him.
“Thank you, Alex,” I say. “Seriously, it means a lot. It’s very nice of you.”
“What are Valentine’s for?” he replies.
Love bombing a younger woman? Messing with her head and heart? Or am I the one messing with myself by feeding this sick notion?
“How’s Elliot doing?” I ask.
He gets this strange look and turns his gaze away. Some might call that suspicious.
“He’s fine,” he says quietly.
“How old is he?”
“Ten.”
“And when did his parents… you know?”
“Two years ago. That was when he came to live with me.”
Sure, or maybe you had one too many drinks and thought a sob story would be the best way to get and keep my interest, hisses a voice in my head.
“What’s he like?”
“He’s… normal,” Alex says after a pause. “He likes LEGO and video games. And hanging out with his friends. He’s just a normal kid.”
Why does he sound like he’s getting defensive?
“Do you have any photos?”
“No,” he replies. “People say he has my eyes. Robin—that’s my brother—used to say that before… But I don’t have any photos.”
He doesn’t have any photos of his nephew on his phone? Isn’t that a tiny bit suspicious?
“Maybe you could take a selfie sometime,” I say, trying to make it lighthearted. “I could compare the eyes; give my two cents.”
“I can do that,” he replies. “But only if you talk some sense into this character of yours, this, what did you call it? Framing device?”
I’m touched that he remembered. “Yeah, that’s it.”
“When’s the performance?” he asks.
“Nuh-uh, no way. This notebook is sweet, very sweet, but it doesn’t buy you a ticket to that crap show.”
“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he says fiercely, reaching across the table and taking my hand.
More tingles dance up my arm at the contact.
“I bet it’s not crap. The furthest thing from it.”
Thank you, I almost say. That means a lot. I get self-conscious, and your reassurance helps for some reason.
Instead, I laugh, not caring if it sounds forced. “Easy, I was only kidding.” Lie. “I need to get back to work.” That’s another lie, probably, because matchmaker Rowan would most likely let me sit here all day if it meant flirting and bonding with my Valentine Casanova.
“I’m going to have dinner here,” Alex says, his eyes locked on me as I stand up.
He’s staring in that captivating way again.
Nothing, nobody else matters. Just me. Just us. Whatever the heck this is.
“Okay,” I say, oh-so breezily. “That’s cool. I’ll send over a waiter.”
As I return to the bar, I resist the urge to clasp the notebook to my chest, which, if he’s the kind of manipulative guy the cynical part of me is painting, is probably exactly what he wants.
CHAPTER 12
ALEX
Alex: You’re so sweet with the customers. One elderly man walked past me, singing your praises. Apparently, you always go the extra mile to make the regulars feel welcome.
I know she won’t get this until her shift is over, but it’s the truth. As she rushes up and down the bar, where people also order food, she’s got a gorgeous energy that captivates me. Her hair bounces on her shoulders, her cheeks are flushed, and her smile is magnetic.
She walks to the end of the bar during a lull, then, like magic, a text comes.
Tori: Some of them don’t have anything else. It’s sad. I consider it my job to make them feel welcome.
I grin when she looks over at me, playfully waving her phone.
Alex: What happened to not texting at work?
Tori: Rowan has mysteriously lifted that ban… but only for the duration of your stay here. It’s almost like she’s got a specific outcome in mind.
Alex: Any ideas?
Tori: I’m pretty sure she’d want me to ask you…
She puts her phone down to serve another customer, leaving the message unfinished but I know where she was going. I watch her with a smile, barely touching my food. I’m like a moth to the flame; I just can’t help myself.