Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“I’ll swing by on my way home?” Ronny asks Taryn. He gives her a sexy wink, and his eyes drop down to her large breasts.
“I’ll be waiting,” she gushes.
Eww . . . Taryn has the worst taste in men. Ronald gives me the ick . . .
Total sleazebag vibes, but somehow she thinks he’s the hottest man on the planet.
I don’t know much about men, but I do know that Taryn’s boobs attract a hell of a lot of them. They’re like a Venus flytrap . . . for sleazebags.
“Here he is now.” Chloe stands and waves.
A handsome man with honey-brown curls walks through the restaurant, looks over, and smiles broadly before waving and heading toward us. Chloe has a new boyfriend; his name is Oliver, and he’s so adorable that I can’t stand it.
He’s got this playful boyish charm, and she’s totally smitten; I don’t blame her.
She met him at the movies at a daytime showing. She was there alone, and he was there alone, the only two in the cinema. They made a joke of it and bonded over their popcorn and ice cream choices and ended up sitting together.
That was three months ago, and the rest, as they say, is history. I’ve never seen her so happy; she floats around on air.
“Look who’s with him!” Chloe bounces excitedly in her chair as she elbows me. “Here we go, Bec.”
Oliver has a friend, a very cute friend.
“Ahhh,” I giggle, glancing down at my drink. Whoa, these margaritas have some punch. I’m feeling tipsy.
“Ladies.” Oliver bends and kisses Chloe’s cheek. “Look how beautiful you are.” He smiles as he tilts her chin.
Swoon . . .
He turns to his friend. “You remember my friend Michael?”
“Of course.” I smile up at him. “Hi.”
“Hello.” Michael’s eyes light up. “I was hoping you’d be here.”
“Hey,” Henley calls from the other end of the table, and the boys wave.
“Hi.”
There aren’t any spare seats. “Let’s go over to the bar to talk,” Chloe suggests. She grabs my arm and drags me out of my chair. “You’re coming.”
Chloe leads me to the bar by the hand while my heart sits in my throat.
Bang, bang, bang go the nerves.
Stop.
I need to get over myself, and letting myself like someone is a step in the right direction.
So my husband cheated . . . so what?
Am I really going to let him ruin the rest of my life and never go on another date again?
No.
No, I am not.
Are all men sleazebags?
Probably.
Stop!
Logically, I know that’s not true. I keep thinking I’m ready to date, and then when it gets closer, I panic and freeze, then decide that I’m not ready.
Enough!
I’m better than this wallowing-in-self-pity crap. I am stronger now, and I’ve got this.
I’m in my prime, and at thirty-two I have so much to look forward to. It’s been twelve months, and I really do need to get over this and move on with my life.
“So.” Michael leans in closer so only I can hear. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
“You have?”
“Nonstop.” He widens his eyes to accentuate his point.
“Nonstop?” I smirk into my drink. “That’s a lot.”
“Have you been thinking about me?”
“Maybe.” I play it cool.
“Maybe yes?” He raises a playful eyebrow.
“Maybe yes.” I laugh.
He glances at his watch.
“Are you working tonight?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I hate working Saturday nights. It’s the only time I hate shift work.”
“What time do you start?”
“Eleven.”
Michael’s a security guard; his jobs are varied, and he works a lot of night shifts.
I glance at my watch. “It’s nine thirty; why did you come out if you have to leave so soon?”
“To see you. I knew if I didn’t come to see you tonight that I wouldn’t get a chance to ask for your number for another whole week.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“So?” I bite my bottom lip to hide my smile.
“Can I have your number?” He takes out his phone.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Call you and ask you out on a date.”
“Or . . .” I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. “You could just ask me now.”
“Rebecca.” He gives me a beautiful broad smile. “Will you go out on a date with me?”
Ahhhh!
“Okay.”
“Next . . . Saturday night?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s a date then.”
“I guess it is.” Nerves flutter around in my stomach; this is the first guy I’ve felt any kind of spark from in so long. My eyes roam over the fine specimen.
Michael is tall and built like a Mack truck, huge and muscular. The kind of man I imagine could fuck you through a wall.
The thought makes me weak in the knees. Damn . . . it’s been a long drought.
I’ve been as dry as the Sahara and am in desperate need of a good weekend of hot and heavy rain.
“I’m going, Bec.” A voice snaps me out of my dirty daydream, and I glance up to see Blake standing beside us. “Do you want a lift home?” he asks.