Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Yes, that’s why I ordered it,” I say.
“Good to know. Plus, it has seven vibration modes. Seven.” He lets out a low whistle of admiration.
“Seven’s my favorite number.”
“And it has a remote control. For hands-free action.”
“Well, they don’t call it The Command Performance for nothing,” I say.
“Why not just name it The Maestro?”
“You can give it that nickname if you’d like.”
“Does this mean you’re taking the great solo sex challenge?”
“Don’t mock solo sex.”
He lifts his hands, his smile disappearing, his eyes turning starkly serious. “I would never ever mock solo sex. It’s some of the best.”
The image of this man enjoying his shower time lodges in my brain and makes no plans to leave. I try to come up with some clever reply when he checks his watch, then the door before he shrugs, fuck it style. “I’m Gage Archer. Can I challenge you to go on a date with me tomorrow night?”
The bell tinkles above the door, and a whoosh of still-warm October air rushes through. Amanda walks in, baggy jeans on, AirPods in, and blonde hair already swept back in a paisley bandana.
There’s not a second to weigh whether it’s the right time in my life to go on a date with a man I’ve been crushing on this hard or not. Or to even consider when I’ll fit this date into my busy schedule. I don’t think at all. I just do. “Yes, you can, Gage Archer,” I say.
“Let me give you my number. But I’ll need something to write it on.” He taps his chin briefly as if in deep thought. I’m about to suggest—well, duh—that a simple exchange of digits via phone would do when he lifts his finger, his expression saying aha. “Yes, a receipt would be good to write on. I’ll take ten Melt In Your Mouth boxes, five It Had to Be You chocolate bars, four of the You Make Me Feel salted caramels, three of those Lovin’ Feeling boxes, a bag of chocolate-covered almonds, and the twenty-four-pack of Always Yours Decadent for my grandma.”
My. Mouth.
I can’t close it.
“Are you sure?” I ask, my jaw agape.
“When I want something…” He steps closer, and I raise my chin to look at him. “I do what I have to to get it.”
Swoon.
Chocolate is the way to my heart—especially my chocolate.
That’s our biggest order in ages. As Amanda heads to the back to drop off her bag and fasten on her apron, I quickly gather Gage’s order, ring him up, and give him my number with a flourish on the receipt. When he leaves carrying two huge bags, I’m sure I’ve never seen anything sexier than that man carrying my chocolate.
As the shop clears, Amanda strolls behind the counter, AirPod-free, waving a hello to Kenji, then saying hi to me.
“Hey, bug,” I say to my favorite person in the world. “How was school?”
But before she can answer, Kenji holds up a hand. “Wait a hot sec, cutie-pie. We need to get all the deets from your sister on what just went down.”
Amanda tilts her head, blue eyes sparking with questions. “That dude with the big order?”
Kenji turns to me. “Yes. Tell us all about the dude with the big order. Who was that?”
“Who do you mean?” I ask innocently.
Kenji tilts his head, his sleek black hair flopping over his shrewd eyes. “He bought the shop. Wait. He better not be working for The Chocolate Connoisseur.”
Amanda’s nose crinkles. “Ew. I can’t stand their chocolate. Ours is so much better.”
“Gage owns a bar, not our rival chocolate shop,” I say to them reassuringly.
Kenji snorts. “Rival chocolate shop? Euphemism. More like soulless chain with zero taste. Anyway, I suppose I don’t have to hate your new suitor then.” Kenji taps his Converse-clad foot. “So, I ask again, who is he?”
“I want to know too,” Amanda says with a curious smile. That’s nice to see. I didn’t see a lot of her smiles, understandably, the first year we lived together. When our parents died in an accident two years ago, both our lives changed overnight. I became her guardian instead of just her sister. I’m thirty to her thirteen, so we only ever lived together as kids for one summer before I left home for college—which means everything I know about being a mom I’ve learned in a crash course in the last twenty-four months. One I’m pretty sure I’m failing.
Am I supposed to tell her I’m going on a date? Ask her if it’s okay? I haven’t dated much in the last two years.
“He’s a guy I’d like to go on a date with. Would that bother you?” I ask my sister, deciding honesty is the best approach.
She rolls her light blue eyes. “You’re such a weirdo.”
I blink. “What? Why?”
“I can’t believe you’re asking my permission. Kenji, can you tell her how cringe she is?”