Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
I shift in my seat as we get to the highway. I don’t know what kind of SUV this is, but it’s the nicest vehicle I’ve ever been in. The seats are so soft and comfy.
“I kind of pictured you as a fast convertible type of guy,” I say when he settles into the left lane, zooming past the slower drivers on our right.
“I have one,” he says with a grin. “But it wouldn’t last five miles in the Vermont snow. I didn’t want our first date to be us trapped in a snowbank in some farm field, freezing in a convertible.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t sound very romantic,” I say with a laugh. Although, I wouldn’t mind being cuddled by those big muscular arms for warmth.
We drive out of the city and the spectacular Manhattan skyline is in full glorious view to our left. I’ve never seen it from this angle. I’ve always been in the thick of the city since I arrived. I haven’t left once. I’m kind of feeling like a goldfish who’s suddenly looking at her fishbowl from the outside.
“Love that view,” Quinn says as he looks at it. I’m looking at him looking at it and I feel a flush in my face and neck as I admire his jaw, his lips, his nose. Even the skyline of the most spectacular city in the world has got nothing on this beautiful man.
He turns back around and I drop my eyes, a little flustered. He must see my pink cheeks, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just smiles and keeps driving.
“What brought you to New York?” he asks.
I tell him all about my dreams of becoming a fashion designer and how so far, it’s not going to plan.
“It never happens as fast as we want,” he says in an encouraging tone, “but the most important part is you’re doing it. You’re in the arena. Just don’t give up and one day, you’ll amaze yourself at all you’ve accomplished.”
“I hope so,” I say, fidgeting with my hands.
He gently takes my chin and lifts it until I’m looking into his stunning eyes. “I know. You got this.”
He tells me all about his journey and I’m amazed by every word. He built up a company from scratch and then IPO’d it—gotta look that up later, not sure what IPO means, but I pretend like I do. He created software that guides drones to drop medical gear to injured soldiers on the battlefield. The US military is their biggest client.
“How did you come up with that?” I asked, amazed by this incredible man.
He sighs as he tells me. “My uncle died in Iraq when his Humvee went over a landmine. If they had the right medical gear, they could have saved him, but…”
I watch him as he takes a deep breath and looks out his window, trying to compose himself.
“So, I came up with this idea.”
“And built a whole company to make it happen?”
He chuckles when he sees my stunned face. “Yeah, pretty much.”
I slide down in the seat and look at him with a smile. “Tell me all about it from the beginning.”
Two magical hours later, we stop at a little roadside gas station for snacks. The time flew by. It felt like ten minutes. We’ve been talking about anything and everything, and my crush has gotten bigger and bigger. I can’t look at this man without smiling.
“How can you like Donatello the best?” Quinn asks as he opens the door for me. The bell chimes over my head, which I love. It signals that we’re out of the city and officially in the country. “Nobody likes Donatello the best.”
“I do,” I say as I walk past him, inhaling the musky scent of his cologne. “I thought he’d be your favorite too.”
“Why?” God, I love the way his eyebrows crinkle up when he’s all inquisitive.
“He’s the inventor,” I say, nodding at the old man cashier before heading to the chips. “Like you.”
“I never thought of it like that,” he says, rubbing his chin.
“Let me guess your favorite Ninja Turtle,” I say as I grab a bag of Doritos and look at him.
He grins as I narrow my eyes on his handsome face, trying to figure him out. “Leonardo is the leader, and you’re definitely a leader, so maybe. Raphael is the hothead, but you’re calm and cool, so I doubt you’re into red. Michaelangelo is the slacker goof, and that’s definitely not you.”
I stare at him, contemplating it, but really I’m just using it as an excuse to openly check him out.
“Leonardo,” I finally say.
He shakes his head. “Splinter.”
I hit him with the bag of Doritos. “That’s not fair.”
He laughs, and our bodies come together like magnets. Our lips get closer and closer, our laughter drying up.
“What are you going to do about it?” he whispers on my lips. I get all tingly from the feel of his warm breath on my mouth and the comforting feeling of his arms wrapped around me.