Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 78576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Excellent,” he says.
“Good, sir.” The sommelier fills my flute expertly, not a bit of foam going over the top, and then fills the remainder of Logan’s flute. He then bows and leaves us.
Logan picks up his flute and smiles. “To a wonderful evening.”
I clink my glass to his but say nothing and then take a sip of the champagne.
It’s surprisingly good. I’ve never had real champagne before. I’ve had the Steel sparkling wine at their parties, and it’s delicious. And then of course I’ve had cheap California sparkling wine, but I wasn’t in France long enough to actually taste real champagne.
And now here I am, in Grand Junction, Colorado, having real champagne with a strange man.
He seems like a kind man, but he’s a strange man nonetheless.
And I begin to feel guilty.
He’s probably expecting a little slap and tickle tonight after spending all this money on such a beautiful dinner for me.
I should probably tell him I’m not interested in that.
But I don’t.
I take another drink of my champagne instead.
Our server comes by, dressed in a white blouse and simple black pants. “Good evening, I’m Charity, and I’ll be taking care of you this evening. I see you’re already set with your cocktail selection. Would you care for any appetizers?”
I blink. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t even looked at the menu.”
“Bring us a selection of your best oysters on the half shell,” Logan says. He looks at me. “You do like oysters, don’t you, Madeline?”
“Of course.”
I’ve only had oysters on the half shell once, and they were kind of slimy, but they tasted good.
“Right away, sir.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You know oysters are an aphrodisiac.”
I swirl the champagne in my flute and wink at him. “So I’ve heard.”
Again I’m tempted to tell him this evening will go nowhere, but then I think, why not? Why not have some indiscriminate sex when I got stood up by the man who professed to be in love with me?
“Tell me a little more about yourself,” he says. “How long have you been coaching?”
Right. I lied.
But it’s not technically a lie, is it? I do plan to become a life coach. I feel very certain in this endeavor. More certain than I felt about any path in my life—other than Dave Simpson.
And obviously that’s gone up in flames, so why the hell not?
“Not long,” I say.
“I find it very interesting. My sister worked with a life coach and said the results were amazing. It really helped her map out her goals.”
“I’m so glad to hear that. What does she do?”
“She’s a novelist. But she had trouble setting daily goals that she could make happen. The coach helped her realize what was holding her back and got her on a schedule that works for her.”
“That’s wonderful. I’m so glad to hear that. What kind of novels does she write?”
“She writes romance novels. If you read romance, you’ve probably heard of her. Leah Templeton.”
“I don’t have a lot of time to read for pleasure,” I say. “But the name rings a bell.”
“She’s very good. Several of her books have been bestsellers.”
I smile. “I’ll definitely look them up. But enough about me. Tell me about the work you do with your firm.”
“It’s mostly corporate work,” he says. “We represent big businesses, keep their contracts in order.”
“What businesses?”
“I can’t give you the names of our clients. Attorney-client privilege and all. But you would probably recognize them if I did.”
I nod. We’ve effectively run out of things to talk about.
I take another sip of my champagne and then glance down at the menu.
I jerk when my phone buzzes in my purse.
“Excuse me,” I say. “I’m actually expecting to hear from someone.”
I grab my phone.
But my heart sinks. It’s not Dave.
It’s Brianna.
I rise. “Would you please excuse me for a moment?”
“Of course.”
I walk away from the table as I pick up the call. “Brianna?”
“Oh my God, Maddie. Thank God you picked up.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Dave. He’s been in an accident. He collided with a truck on the road to Grand Junction.”
My heart drops to my feet. Chills coarse through my entire body. I have to fight to keep from toppling over.
Brianna didn’t just say what I think she said.
Dave. My Dave. The man who told me he loved me.
In an accident.
He could be dying.
For all I know, he could be…
And here I am, acting like a child, out on a date with the first man who looked my way. Acting like a complete slut. Not once did it cross my mind that there might be some other explanation. I was so in my head about Dave not wanting me anymore that it never occurred to me that something awful could have happened to the man I—
“Maddie, are you there?”
I bring the phone back to my ear, my hand shaking. “Y-Yes. I am.”