Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
“Why is it so laughable that I would be alone?”
“Because you’re hot, funny, smart, and one of the most charming people I’ve ever met,” he said. “You won’t be alone.”
My heart did a little backflip in my chest.
We started sauntering back over toward the booth. “That’s very kind of you, but you have no idea how bad I usually am on first dates.”
“Jamie, I’ve noticed at least five people, both men and women, staring at you like you’re the cutest thing they’ve ever seen—and that’s just been tonight. I promise you, you are going to be fine. I’m the one who will be alone forever, and I’ll probably be better off for it.”
I struggled not to roll my eyes. He was the one who was crazy. I knew Landry was a bachelor by choice, but he’d have no problem having whoever he wanted in his bed, anytime he wanted.
We moved through the line for more drinks quickly, and once the cinnamon-spiced wine was in my hands, we sat down at a nearby picnic bench. I found myself guzzling the wine down. It was delicious, it warmed me up, and I was feeling continually worse about how I’d gotten angry with Landry.
“I forgive you, by the way,” I finally said to him from across the table. “For telling me I’m incapable of love.”
Landry’s mouth twisted into a wry smirk and he reached across the table to swat the arm of my puffy coat. “That is absolutely not what I said.”
I puffed out a laugh and took another sip of my wine. “Okay, for telling me I might not be ready for love. I feel ready, and feel like I crave it more than anything in the world, but some part of me doesn’t feel like I’m ready. I still have a high-stress job that’s very low-paying. I don’t live alone. I don’t own property. How could I start a life?”
Landry’s expression became serious so quickly that it took me by surprise. “That’s no reason not to find love, Jamie.”
A breeze blew through the air. I looked down at the ground, moving a little pile of snow with my shoe.
“Yeah,” I finally said, unable to find the words for more.
“And what do you mean, start a life?” Landry asked. “You already have one. And it sounds like a beautiful one, even if that’s hard for you to see.”
A strange mixture of emotions coursed through me as I sat there, watching Landry’s soulful honey-colored eyes.
He had really meant what he’d said, and it shifted everything on its axis.
He wasn’t like the Mercedes-driving, snobbish tourists who would turn their noses up at my beat-up old Toyota in the parking lot of my work.
He was genuine.
“You two!” I turned to see Chase, Shawn, and Nathan running up to us with wicked smiles on their faces. “Snowball fight! Come over here!”
“I’ve never been in a snowball fight,” I said.
“I was about to say no,” Landry told Shawn, “but now that I know Jamie’s never had a snowball fight, I know I could absolutely cream him. Let’s go.”
“Only thing better than a snowball fight is a drunken one,” Shawn said, pulling on my arm. “And I’ve had plenty of beers tonight.”
“I’m pretty buzzed, myself,” I said as he led us over past the edge of the fairgrounds to a snowy clearing surrounded by trees. He’d already gotten the rest of the guys in on the snowball fight, and more people were starting to join.
“Think fast!” Nathan said and a moment later, a snowball pelted me on the chest.
“Hey! That was a cheap shot.”
Nathan laughed. “Fair game.”
I wadded up a mound of snow and tossed it back at him, and before long I was in the thick of it, learning how to pack the snow best and tossing snowballs at Landry and Chase and everybody else. For the next twenty minutes, I was running around like a kid, diving into snow banks on my knees, and laughing like an idiot as the usual chatter in my brain melted away.
It was blissful. My adrenaline was pumping at first, and then by the end of the big snowball fight, everyone gave each other high-fives and we turned to build a snowman, instead. Our snowman turned out lopsided and one-eyed, but he was cute enough, and we named him Milton.
It was only when I started walking back over toward the fairgrounds exit that I noticed my hair, pants, and jacket were all half-wet, soaked in patches from the melting snowballs.
“I’m totally screwed,” I told Landry, looking down at the state of my clothing.
“Mine’s just as bad,” he said. “Come on. We can dry all of this off in my suite.”
“You know that feeling when you think you’re sober, but then once you get home, you realize you’re a lot drunker than you thought?” I asked him as the elevator door slid shut.