Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
I’ll wait until we’re face-to-face.
Gavin comes through the doorway with a bag.
Me: I’ll call you tomorrow. My food is here.
Calista: Love you, fool.
I laugh and set the phone on the counter.
“The kitchen thought this was to go,” Gavin says, frowning. “I’ll grab a plate.”
“No, that’s fine—perfect, actually. I’d rather take it back to my room and get myself sorted for tomorrow anyway.”
He sets the bag on the counter. A coy smile plays on his lips. “Are you nervous?”
“A little. It’s growing as I sit here.” And think about Calista’s warnings. I reach for the cash in my pocket. “I should’ve drunk my dinner.”
“Put your money away. Dinner is on me,” Gavin says.
“What? No. You aren’t buying my dinner. Why would you do that?”
He shoves the bag toward me. “You’ve had a hell of a day. Sounds like the guy who stopped to help you gave you a hard time, and who knows what will happen tomorrow?”
My jaw falls open. “Gee, thanks. Did you miss that whole part about me being nervous? Because that doesn’t help.”
“I’m not saying something bad will happen,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’m just … saying.”
I put a five-dollar bill on the counter for a tip and grab the bag. “I am going to let you buy my dinner for making me worry about that all night.”
He grins cheekily.
“You are officially my only friend here, Gavin. Congratulations. If tomorrow is a shit show, I’ll be back for therapy.”
“Tell you what,” he says, tossing the towel he had earlier over his shoulder. “If tomorrow is shitty, I’ll listen to you whine and buy your dinner again.”
“Oh, you’re now my best friend here, even if Patti pans out in the friend arena.”
He snorts. “I’ll beat Patti for that title even if she makes it into the friend arena.”
I laugh. “Good night, Gavin.”
“Night.”
“Night, Tucker.”
He throws up a hand in a salute without looking at me. I kind of love this guy.
I head for the door and step out into the cool night air.
My spirits are surprisingly good, considering the ridiculousness of the day. Although, physically, I’m disjointed from the traveling, and emotionally, I’m stressed from the anticipation of tomorrow.
I need to eat and get to bed.
My phone buzzes as I start splashing back across the street. No cars are coming either way, so I tuck my take-out bag under my arm. Then I slip out my phone.
Calista: He won an award.
Me: Calista …
Calista: He was Lineman of the Year two years ago. That’s electrician speak, not football speak, to clarify.
Me: Noted. I just got a burger and made a friend. I’m going to try to relax and get some sleep, so enough with the private eye work, okay?
Calista: Did you tell them you have a best friend already?
Me: LOL. Is that all you took out of that?
Calista: I mean it. You already have a best friend.
Me: I know.
I step onto the sidewalk in front of The Ridges.
Calista: Love you. Call me if you need me. CHARGE YOUR PHONE.
Me:
Calista: Night, love bug.
I laugh and make my way to the front of the hotel.
Burger. Brush teeth. Bed.
I grin.
I’ll try not to imagine a hot, green-eyed grump in bed with me.
Chapter Four
Megan
“I legitimately hate my boss,” Calista says, nearly growling into the phone.
“What happened now?” I squint through my windshield into the morning sunlight. “You sound extra passionate today, and it’s Saturday. How can you be pissed at your boss on a Saturday?”
“Remember that guy I met at the airport? The hot guy in the suit and glasses?”
“Vaguely.”
She sighs. “It’s been a while. I can see why you might forget him.”
“Or I might forget him because you’ve had—how many men have you been with since you met him?”
“Not the point.” She smacks her lips together. “We had a … I’m going to say a date because that sounds more politically correct. But it was really dinner and a hookup.”
I grin and silence Chris’s directions.
Calista and I have a lot in common—we love the beach, Brad Pitt movies, and everything that happened in the nineties. But in some ways, we’re opposites. When it comes to men and dating, we’re on different spectrums.
My friend dates fast and hard. There’s an objective to it all. Find a husband. She’s convinced there’s one man out there created just for her, and she’ll know it when she meets him. So why bother pretending to be serious about someone she knows isn’t the one? It only prolongs or prevents her from fulfilling her happy ending.
Me? I date cautiously. The goal isn’t … well, there isn’t one besides a good time. The concept of forever and ever, amen makes me itch. My eye twitches, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. A clock starts ticking as soon as I get attached, and I’ve never found the pain of the loss to be worth the experience. I bow out before things get too serious.