Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“I wouldn’t bet against Lydia,” Ivy offers, checking her purse before looking up. Her eyes go wide. “I thought Darnell was going to the bathroom.”
That’s the moment I realize Darnell has, in fact, not gone to the bathroom. No. He’s standing at the bar, a wide smile on his face as he points back to our table. He’s talking to the object of my gloriously brief mind affair, who smiles and shrugs as if saying, sure why not.
We have a tagalong.
I am going to kill Darnell.
Chapter Three
The man is even more devastating up close than he was across the bar.
An hour later we’re sitting in a big booth at The Red Eye Diner, and my belly is full of the excellent cheeseburger I ate and butterflies. Because he’s kind of everything.
And that’s why I should be wary, but it’s okay. The man’s here for work and won’t be staying long.
Luca. He’d introduced himself as Luca Martin, and he’d zeroed in on me in a way that told me Darnell had absolutely explained my prior drooling situation. Which I really hope I’ve stopped doing.
My friends are terrible, wonderful people who’d asked Luca a whole bunch of questions, eaten quickly, paid the bill—taken at least one surreptitious picture of him in case I got murdered—and then left Luca and I sitting here as the evening lengthened to night. I can’t quite make myself leave. I worry I’m about to make a complete fool of myself over this guy, and I can’t stop it.
“Your friend,” he begins with the most perfect British accent, “she seemed familiar. I think she called herself Ivy. She mentioned she worked in tech. Was that Ivy Jensen?”
So he follows the business world, more specifically the tech industry. I nod. “Yes, she used to run a company called Jensen Medical.”
His fingers snap in recognition. “Yes. She was at the top of her game. I was sad to hear she lost her company. Her software works brilliantly. Our hospital system uses it. The local system that is. She’s quite intimidating. I’ve been told my picture was taken at some point in time this evening, and if you go missing, she will put me on something called Dateline.”
That sounds like Ivy, but I don’t want to scare him away. “Don’t worry about her. She’s only watching out for me. Do they not have Dateline in England?”
He shrugs slightly. “I might have heard of it, but I’ve never watched it. It sounds very informative. I prefer something more entertaining. I do quite a lot of reading.”
“I bet you’re into nonfiction and like Nobel Prize-winning literature.” He would certainly not approve of my latest read, Their Virgin Mate, and that’s a shame because I learned a lot from it.
He shudders, an oddly masculine gesture on him. “Not since I finished university. Give me a murder mystery or a good graphic novel. My adv…coworkers always lament my taste in fiction. The only reason I don’t watch a lot of telly is time. My job can be a bit intense. When I have some down time, I enjoy… What do you call it here in the States? Binging?”
So he’s not an overly intellectual snob. He’s ticking off all the boxes on my list while presenting me with zero red flags. He’d been charming with my friends and attentive with me. He hadn’t even said anything when I’d gotten ketchup on my dress. He’d simply taken his napkin, soaked it in his water, and told me to pat. The man knows how to take care of semi-fine fabrics. “Yes, I like a good binge. I once locked myself in my apartment for a weekend and shut off all social media so no one spoiled Stranger Things for me.”
“That’s the worst. Although it’s a fine line, isn’t it? When does a spoiler become a normal, everyday reference every human should understand?” There’s a mug of coffee in front of him and an empty plate that used to house a big piece of chocolate pie he’d declared delicious. “I have a friend who still hasn’t watched Game of Thrones and gets upset when we talk about it around him. Sorry, mate. That ship has sailed.”
Oh, I like him so much. He’s laid back and seems real to me. The haze of his hotness is still there, but there’s also an ease between us that does something for my soul. In the last hour we’ve talked solidly thanks to the gift Heath left for us.
It’s a game he sometimes carries around when we’re all going out to dinner. It consists of a bunch of cards with get-to-know you questions. Like what’s your favorite type of weather. His—rainy with a hint of a chill. Mine—a fall afternoon when the air is crisp but the sun warms me while I’m walking through the park.