Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
I should’ve wished for you. No, that was wrong. I wasn’t wishing for men or relationships anymore. “If I tell you, it won’t come true. Isn’t that how wishes work?”
His broad shoulders rose and fell casually. “I’m not sure. Can’t remember the rules of wish-making.”
Damn it. I was done with men. My mind was made up, and I wouldn’t be distracted. No matter how handsome and charming. No matter how sexy. No, damn it, he’s not sexy. Just an average-looking Joe. “That’s the standard rule, as I remember it.”
He nodded and rubbed his leather-gloved hands over his jaw. “Maybe if you share it, it’ll be like having one of those accountability buddies to encourage you to make your wish come true.”
He was too charming by half, that much was for sure. Still, I wanted to share my wish with this stranger. I didn’t know him and probably wouldn’t see him beyond this week, so he was perfectly safe to confide in. “I wished that I could find my path in life, which sounds ridiculous now that I’m saying it out loud. I’m almost thirty years old. Of course, I should have a path already.” My face burned hot with embarrassment.
His gray eyes studied me for a long time. My heart pounded hard and fast, but I held his gaze and refused to look away. “Some people pick their path early and stick with it because they don’t want to feel as if they’ve wasted their time chasing a dream they didn’t want. They end up unhappy and make everyone around them unhappy.” He watched me a little longer before his gaze locked onto my mouth. “Be kinder to yourself.”
Damn it, no. I was done with men. “Thank you for that.”
The smile he gifted me this time was sweet, and I felt something I refused to name settle in my belly. “You’re welcome.” Those grey eyes were mesmerizing, stormy with just a hint of shine that gave them a silver quality.
“I’m Sela,” I finally said when I found my voice. “I don’t know you. Are you visiting family for the holiday?”
His black brows rose. “You know everyone in town?”
“Just about,” I answered with a shrug. “I don’t know you.”
He said nothing for a long time, just kept staring at me as if trying to yank my deepest, darkest secrets from my body. He licked his lips—good god—and then walked around the fountain so we were face to face. “I’m Brock.” He held out a large hand with short, clipped nails and waited patiently.
Brock. It was such a masculine name. Rich and masculine. Out of my league. Damn it, there is no league! “It’s nice to meet you, Brock.” I put my hand in his and watched as his hand consumed mine, focusing on that to avoid the blazing hot electricity that arced between us.
“Nice to meet you, Sela. That’s such a unique name.” He held my hand in his for longer than was appropriate, but I couldn’t bring myself to remove it. “You wouldn’t happen to be a realtor, would you?”
I laughed. “I’m not. Sorry, just a waitress.”
“Nobody is just anything.” His words charmed the panties right off me. I would have handed them over right then and there if it wasn’t so cold outside.
“Krista Jensen,” I said and finally pulled my hand from his to grab my phone. “She can help you find a place to rent or to buy.”
Amusement sparkled in his eyes. “So you really do know everyone. You know Lee?”
“Lancaster? Yeah, his resort just opened on the edge of town.” It was an odd question. “I don’t know him well enough to get you an introduction or anything like that.”
He laughed. “No need. We’re old friends.”
Of course. That explained the expensive-looking clothes and that air of sophistication that surrounded him. “Of course. Good luck with your search.”
“Can I buy you a coffee or tea?”
Good god, yes! I shook my head. Coffee was the precursor to dinner, which was the appetizer for sex and love and an eventual breakup. “No, but we can walk together to the coffee shop, and I’ll get my second dose of caffeine for the day.”
His dark brows dipped in confusion. “Why can’t I buy you a coffee?”
I could have given him a flirty answer, but I wanted to be honest and real. I was tired of trying to fit myself into what I thought the man du jour wanted me to be. Now, I would just be me. If someone didn’t like it, that was their problem. “Because,” I sighed and motioned to his whole body, “you’re gorgeous, kind, and really sweet, plus you seem rich and successful. I think—no, I know—you have heartbreak written all over you.”
He froze, stunned by my words. “I’d say thank you, but that feels decidedly uncomplimentary.”
I laughed at his honest assessment. “It is a compliment. You’d be very easy to fall for, and I’m not doing that anymore.” I patted his arm and put on my best smile, which faltered when I gripped the lump of stone posing as a bicep. “But I would like to have a coffee with you that I purchase myself. As friends.”