Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
She cocks her head. “You really mean that? I’ve had dates offer to take me to the symphony before. It’s usually a line.”
I let go of her hand, trail my fingers up her arm a few inches—God, her skin is like the finest Mulberry silk—looking straight into her eyes. “It’s not with me, Alissa. You can take that to the bank.” I pull out my phone. “I can get us tickets right now.”
She widens her eyes. “Oh, that won’t be necessary. I’ll have to check my calendar first. And I left it at home.”
“You don’t keep your calendar on your phone?”
She chuckles lightly. “No. I’m a weirdo in that way. I’ve always needed to keep my schedule in a physical book. Not sure why. It’s a pain in the arse to have to constantly check it when I could just pull up an app on my phone and see.”
“I don’t think that’s weird, Alissa. I think it’s charming.” I laugh. “You’ve seen my shop. My car. I live for vintage. It’s nice to have a world that exists outside of a screen.”
She looks at me, really looks at me, as if I’m an ancient hieroglyph she’s trying to decipher.
“You’re something, Maddox.” She finishes her martini, looks around, and raises a hand in the air.
Immediately a server comes. This one is male, with shaggy dark hair and piercing brown eyes, his bare shoulders revealing him as the Four of Spades. He bows his head at Alissa.
“One more of those delicious gin and tonics, please.” She turns to me. “Maddox, would you like something?”
This is her fourth drink. That’s a lot, even for me. Good thing I’m driving her home. “I’ll just have a sparkling water, Four. Twist of lemon. Thank you.”
Four nods, whisking away silently.
It’s only our first date. It’s not my place to ask Alissa if she should stop drinking. I don’t know her that well yet—for all I know, she could have the tolerance of a forty-year-old lumberjack.
“You like those elderflower gin and tonics?” I ask.
She nods. “They’re really fabulous.” She bites her lip. “You must think I’m being reckless. I just ordered my fourth drink, and you’ve only had two.”
“I’d join you for a third, but I want to get you safely home.” I flash her a smile. “But you are more than welcome to drink to your heart’s content. It’s on me.”
She reaches into her bag, grabs her purse. “No, I can throw you some cash if you—”
I hold up a hand. “Your money is no good here, Alissa. Besides, it’s charged directly to my account. When I bring my best friend to the club, he’ll occasionally insist that he put a credit card down, but unless they’re told otherwise, they know to charge everything directly to me.”
“And they just recognize you?”
I nod. “Club membership here is very exclusive. Only a couple dozen people in the entire city are allowed within these walls. They only have fifty or so faces to memorize.”
“Fascinating.” She scrunches her eyebrows. “It must cost you a fortune to pay the membership fee, then.”
“It’s not cheap. But I inherited the membership from my father. And his estate is paying my membership fees in perpetuity.”
“So your father is paying for these drinks?”
I chuckle. “No. I pay for any incidentals. Drinks are on me, Alissa. And you can have as many as you like.”
She fans herself. “Mr. Hathaway, you’re not trying to get me drunk, are you?”
“Of course not. I trust a woman to know when to cut herself off.”
Four comes by and hands off Alissa’s gin and tonic and my sparkling water.
“Thank you, Four.” Alissa bows her head to the server.
He blinks for a moment but then nods to her and turns away, heading to another table to take their order.
Alissa takes a sip of her drink. “I hope I didn’t offend him.”
“I don’t think you could offend anyone, Alissa.” I bring my own glass of sparkling water to my lips. The comforting sting of the carbonation pricks at my tongue, laced with the gentle acidity of the lemon twist.
“Very European of you to order a sparkling water,” Alissa says. “Most of the Americans I meet only enjoy soda if it’s pumped full of corn syrup and artificial coloring.”
I shrug. “I’ve always had a taste for it, I suppose. Something about the bubbles, I don’t know. I have a SodaStream at home. Every so often, when I’m thirsty but regular water just isn’t enough, I power it up.”
She laughs lightly and takes another sip of her drink.
“This drink will be my last.” She pouts her lips out and narrows her eyes at me. “Unless, of course, I can convince you to come in for a nightcap once you’ve dropped me off at my place.”
13
ALISSA
I clap my hand over my mouth.
I can’t believe I just said that.