Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Even If I say no, my stomach is going to say yes.” I reluctantly release him and turn to see the two dogs sitting by his feet. “Do you guys want to go out with me?” I tell them, and Stitch gets up first, going around in a circle while wagging his tail. “Let’s go,” I say and turn to walk to the door. Opening it, I let them walk out ahead of me. I look over my shoulder, and Evan is there just staring at me.
“Order food so we can do that kissing thing again.” He shakes his head with a smile. “Chop-chop.” I clap my hands and walk out onto his concrete patio. His yard is huge, and the dogs run in the distance. I walk to the hammock hanging right at the edge of the covered patio and sit in it softly, my feet never leaving the ground. I lean back in the hammock, watching the dogs run back and forth after each other. My hand touches my lips as his kiss lingers.
“Food should be here in twenty minutes,” he says from behind me. The dogs now run full force toward him. He grabs their silver bowls and fills them up with water. “There you guys go,” he says and looks up at me. “Hope you like Mexican.”
“I do.” Turning in the hammock, I look at him.
“Good because it was the one that took the least amount of time,” he says. Coming over, he bends over and softly kisses my lips. Not with tongue, just a kiss, and just because. He stands by the hammock, and the dogs finish drinking and come around us. I stand only so I can hold his hand. Once my hand is in his, he brings it to his lips. We say nothing to each other, and when his phone rings in his pocket, he tells me the food is here.
I walk into the house and wash my hands and make my way around the kitchen looking for plates. I finally find them walking to the table with them the same time he comes in with the huge bags. “How much food did you order?”
“I didn’t know what you ate, so I told him to bring a little bit of everything,” he says and unloads the food while I go in search of utensils. I also get a couple of water bottles from his fridge.
“It smells so good,” I tell him, sitting down and seeing all the containers he has opened.
“This is chicken tacos.” He points at one. “Fish tacos.” I listen to him tell me all the different things he ordered while I grab a chip and dip it in the queso.
“I’m not listening to anything you say,” I tell him, and he laughs. He sits down in front of me. “This is the first meal we’ve had together alone,” I tell him, grabbing one of the shrimp tacos.
“It is,” he says, grabbing a taco and then loading it with some guacamole.
“So what are we going to tell everyone tomorrow?” I ask him, and he looks at me with his eyebrows pulled together.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“I mean, people are going to ask if we are together,” I tell him. “I mean, the whole world knows. And now we got through the first awkward kiss part.”
“There was nothing awkward about our first kiss,” he snaps. “If you want, I can show you what I mean right now.”
I laugh out loud. “Relax there, cowboy. I’m not saying that it wasn’t a good kiss,” I joke with him, and he glares at me. “It was better than good. What I’m saying is that people are going to be there, probably members of the press, so what do you think we should tell them?”
“I don’t give a shit what we tell them or if we tell them anything at all,” he says between bites. “I’m good with whatever you want to tell them.”
“We could play it off as I’m visiting a friend.” He raises one eyebrow. “Jesus, relax there,” I tell him. “You need to calm the male hormones please and listen to me.”
“Not sure I want to hear what you have to say.”
“I’m saying that we don’t have to go in there and play tonsil hockey and have people taking a picture of us. We can go in there and be like I’m visiting and I decided to swing by,” I say, and he laughs.
“Tonsil hockey,” he says between laughter, and I shake my head. “Sweet, sweet Zara.”
“Oh, good God,” I say annoyed. “Can we just keep this on the down low until I tell my family?” I ask him. “I mean, we’ve spent two days together at the most.”
“It’s been two weeks,” he counters.
“I said we’ve spent two days together. Not that we have known each other,” I tell him.