Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Val holds her arms out to her sides. “Are you that oblivious? Did you not sense the pheromones in here?”
Yes. “No. I sense a heavy dose of friend failure since you didn’t save me a beef manhattan.”
She rolls her eyes. “Only you would focus on beef and mashed potatoes when a whole freaking snack just walked out of here with your phone number.”
The reminder makes my tummy somersault again. But I don’t give in. That would only encourage Val.
“Of course I would. I’ve eaten chicken nuggets and macaroni for a week. I’m hungry.”
She tries to keep a straight face. Her lips curl toward the ceiling a little more with each second that passes.
“It’s not funny,” I say, laughing. “You don’t even know the life I live.”
She smirks. “I know you’re going to be living a life of missed opportunities if you don’t answer the phone when he calls.”
I hate it when she’s right. And she is right this time. I feel it deep in my bones—the parts of my bones that haven’t been touched by a man like that in way too long.
“Regardless of the life I’ll lead when I send him to voice mail, I can’t do it, Val.”
“And why the hell not?”
My body screams in agreement with her. I ignore them both.
“Why?” I ask, repeating her question. “Because . . . because you’re taking tai chi classes for the hell of it on Thursday nights, and I’ve never done that.”
She blinks at me. “Say what?”
I sigh.
“What does my tai chi class have to do with you not answering Cole’s phone call?” she asks, like I’ve officially lost my mind.
And maybe I have.
Cole Beck is the man I would create if God handed me modeling clay and said, Go for it: create the man of your dreams, and I will make him into reality. Tall, lean body. Perfect smile. A heavy dose of wit with a hint of naughtiness that promises a good time in bed.
But the reason that option isn’t available to me must be because every time I get a man close to that, he wrecks my heart. My joy. My life. And if the fact that Cole is a walking sculpture of my design isn’t bad enough . . . he doesn’t even live here.
Done.
That was easy.
Why bother investing time in a man, even for a quick bout of fun, when there is simply no future with him?
“I just need a minute,” I say, hoping that it will be enough to suffice.
It’s not.
“A minute for what, Palm? You’re always talking about wanting to live life again—well, live it. With him. In bed, preferably, but if you want to get fancy, try a table. Or a boat.”
I roll my eyes. “I’d be thrilled to have sex with Cole if it was just that—sex.”
“I’m sure that can be worked out.”
“Val . . .” I give her a pointed look. “Do you really think that I can have sex with him and not think about it the next day? Or the next week, probably? I’d be doing laundry and fantasizing about him and the rinse cycle.”
“Be honest. You’d probably relive that for the rest of your life.”
I sit back on my stool and sigh. “That’s my point. That’s what I’ve done my entire life. I’ve never, not once, done myself any favors, and I’m trying to change that. I’m on Team Palmer now.” I shake invisible pom-poms. “Go, me!”
She’s not entertained.
“No offense, but I think screwing the daylights out of him would be doing yourself an orgasmic favor.”
I can’t help but laugh at her. “I’m sure it would be orgasmic. Hell, I nearly had an orgasm sitting beside him.”
She laughs too.
“But sleeping with him—or having dinner with him, for that matter—is not what I need to be doing right now.” I level my gaze with hers. “It’ll be a total waste of time, and I’ve wasted enough of my damn time on the wrong men.”
As right as Val was earlier, I’m right now.
I’ve spent so much time waiting on guys who promised me the world—men who took everything that I had to give and gave nothing in return.
First, there was Jared, Ethan’s dad. I spent six years biding my time and hoping he would grow up and decide to trade the video games for vacations. Never happened.
Then it was Charlie, the cutie I met at work. That bastard cost me almost a year of my life that I can’t get back.
Now I’m thirty-two years old, a single mom, with no happily ever after on the horizon. Yes, I could be happy on my own, but I don’t want to be. I want someone to share my life with.
I don’t want to have to substitute a golden retriever as my lifelong companion, but I’m getting to that point.
“No, you’re right,” Val says, shaking her head. “You’ve dated some real champs.”