Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Tate, this is one pretty pie,” Mimi says, admiring my handiwork.
“It smells amazing.”
“It’s going to taste amazing, too. But we aren’t cutting it until it cools, you little monkey.”
“I cut one pie hot, and it’s all you remember.” I make a face at her. “I need to make a very important call.”
She shoos me away with her hand as she heads to the recliner again. “Go outside because I’m about to turn this movie up.”
I step outside onto her small concrete patio. The air is warm and still, and the sky is bursting with purples and pinks around the setting sun. But I don’t have time to appreciate it.
I scroll through my contacts list to see whose number I have from the Raptors. I haven’t bothered to save many contacts yet. The only one I can find is Tally’s because I had to call her yesterday about some of Charlie’s paperwork that went missing. Luckily, she knew where to find it.
The line rings once, twice, and then, on the third time, she picks up.
“Tally Thatcher,” she says.
“Hey, Tally. It’s Tate.”
She clears her throat. “Oh. Good evening, Mr. Brewer.”
“I’m trying to reach Aurora. Is she in the office?”
“Sir, it’s five thirty. Everyone's gone but me and the cleaning crew.”
I pace in a wide circle. “Why are you still there?”
“Because there’s work that must be done.”
I really like this girl.
“I told Aurora that I would take care of a few things so she could enjoy her night,” she says.
She ends the sentence with a little dry laugh, almost as if she’s sharing information she shouldn’t be. What’s that about?
“Do you have a number where I can reach her?” I ask, slowing my paces.
“Of course. But I wouldn’t plan on reaching her tonight.”
I stop moving. “And why is that?”
“Because she’s on a date.”
She’s on a what?
My jaw pulses as my brain accepts this information.
She’s on a date? Aurora? What the fuck?
“She left here about twenty minutes ago,” Tally says. “There was just enough time for her to run home, get cleaned up, and then get to Caesar’s by six.”
The way she says each word makes it clear she’s intentionally dropping information.
I really, really like this girl.
“You know what? Forget the number,” I say, my brain two steps ahead of her. “I’ll contact Aurora another way.”
“I think that sounds like a great idea, Mr. Brewer. You should do that.”
I smile. “Tally?”
“Yes?”
“Go home. You’ve gone above and beyond today.”
She laughs as I end the call.
Chapter Eighteen
Aurora
The light turns green, and I press on the accelerator so slowly that the car behind me honks.
I flip my visor down and squint into the low-hanging sun. The warmth feels good on my face and casts a positive glow around me. Too bad it doesn’t work to rid me of the negative thoughts rolling through my mind.
Mostly … guilt.
I press my lips together as I make a right-hand turn.
I don’t owe Tate anything, and I’ve also been clear about not wanting anything. But that’s the problem. I’m not certain that’s wholly true anymore.
“You mean, aren’t you more trouble than you’re worth?”
My palm smacks against the steering wheel.
How can he see right through me? And how much longer can I pretend he doesn’t have a key that unlocks the box where I hold my deepest fears—a key he seems to want to use?
He’s wrinkled my plans and made me question everything I thought was true. It’s uncomfortable. It’s concerning. But it’s also impossible not to acknowledge the effort he’s putting forward.
“Why won’t you give me a chance, Aurora?”
I pilot the car into Caesar’s parking lot and find a spot near the door.
A lump settles in my throat. “I don’t know Tate. I don’t fucking know anymore.”
Isn’t he objectively everything I’ve dreamed of in a man? He’s emotionally intelligent and kind. Patient. Respectful. He sees me and makes me feel like I matter. And, my God, can he make me come.
“What’s really happening here?” I ask, turning off the car. “Why the hell am I going on this pseudo-date when everything I want is a phone call away?”
The answer trickles into my mind like a dark cloud.
Because I don’t know how to handle him.
The realization makes my stomach woozy. My palms sweat. That single sentence cuts through the fog in my brain like a knife.
I don’t know what to do with Tate. It’s really that simple. What happens when the answer to your prayers, the embodiment of your dreams, actually materializes? How does that work?
Worse, what if it doesn’t work? What if everything you thought you wanted turns out to be wrong, and then you’re left with nothing, not even a dream?
I grab my purse off the passenger’s seat, but I can’t stop the thoughts from coming at me like a freight train.
I know what to do with men who talk a good game but don’t walk it. I can handle men who say what I want to hear when I’m facing them but talk out of the other side of their mouth when I turn away. And I know what happens when a man love bombs you but is missing once the dust settles.