Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
She squeals softly as she sits up straighter. “Oh, and that reminds me! I put a free sample of my favorite liquid blush in the bag with the jewelry. We just got a bunch in, and the peach will look so good on you. That, a little black eyeliner, and a touch up with your mascara, and you’ll be ready for a romantic dinner by candlelight.”
“Speaking of, we’d better get going,” Bear says, moving backward on his crutches toward the scooter waiting outside. “After you, beautiful.”
Krissy waves from behind the register. “Have so much fun! And don’t forget to post pics from dinner on your socials. Cats are great and all, but you two are way too cute to hide behind the camera all the time. Love Tales of Hambone and everything Clyde the Belching Kitten, by the way. I’m an OG fan. Been following the feeds for years.”
“I think she just told us that we’re old,” I mutter as we move out to the scooter.
Bear turns back to me as he slides his crutches into the storage area in the back. “Well, I am. For sure. Does that…bother you?”
I jerk my focus to his face with a frown. “What?”
“I’m nine years older than you are,” he says, looking rather adorably flustered as he adds, “I did some googling when we first started messaging. You looked so young, and I didn’t want to risk having even a PG conversation with someone underage. So, I googled.”
“That’s smart and decent of you,” I say. “But no, it doesn’t bother me. Why would it? I have friends of all different ages. My mentor, Caroline, is almost forty, and we hang out all the time.”
“Good. That’s…good.” He smiles, but I can tell he’s let down by my answer.
Probably the “friends” part, but as much as I want to please him, I can’t take that back. Friends are all we can ever be, and if I’m being honest with myself, we probably can’t even be that. I can’t get any closer to Bear without wanting more than friendship, without wanting to abandon my well-considered game plan and let him continue sweeping me off my feet.
And “off her feet” isn’t a smart place for a reporter of any kind to be, let alone one trying to break through to the next level before she runs out of time.
But we can have a lovely dinner together and a gracious goodbye.
That will be enough. It has to be.
“All right then, we should get going.” He scoots his suitcase to one side, making room for my new bag. He reaches for the handle, shooing me away when I try to insist that I can lift it in myself. “I’ve been lifting weights the entire time I’ve been in this cast. Nothing wrong with the rest of my body, just the bum knee.” He slides my suitcase into place before adding, “Though I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to drive. My knee aches less when I can lean back in the seat.”
“Sure, no problem,” I say, happy to be able to do something for him for once. It’s only when he sits down and motions for me to take the extremely tiny slice of seat left over in front of him that I hesitate.
But changing my mind now would only make it seem like I was bothered by the thought of basically sitting in Bear’s lap as I drive. Which I am, but I don’t want Bear to know it. The less he knows about the depths of my lust for him, the better.
So, I swing up to straddle his strong thighs, facing the front of the scooter, and pretend my entire body isn’t aching for him to squeeze my ass as I pull out into the terminal. I love a good ass squeeze and Bear is very good at squeezing ass, a fact he proved the last time I was in his lap.
Don’t think about that. Don’t think about anything but steak and potatoes and a firm, friendly goodbye.
I try, I really do. But by the time we reach the flag-lined entrance to the international terminal, my body is humming louder than the Christmas carols pumped through the airport speakers.
Hark hear the bells indeed…
Only this time, the bells aren’t on my feet, they’re in my heart, pealing out a song of thanks for every second spent this close to Bear.
Chapter Six
Bear
I don’t want to ask the woman at the front desk if they’ve had a room cancellation—I want to keep Dipsy as close to me as possible for as long as possible—but the part of me that’s determined to test my “destiny” theory won’t stand for it.
If it’s really destiny, there will still be only one room.
Only one bed…
Only one place for us to end this increasingly perfect night…
So, I do it. As soon as we cross The Waterhouse Suites Hotel’s plush, candlelit lobby, where a man in a tuxedo is playing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” on a grand piano, and several couples sit around the softly lit room on overstuffed couches drinking cocoa or mulled wine, I ask if I might be able to book another room for my friend, nodding toward Dipsy beside me.