Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
We stepped into the clearing. I stopped, taking it all in, and a gasp escaped me. It wasn’t a blanket on the ground, nor was there a bag of food. Instead, there was a small table with two chairs, a lit candle, and two silver domes covering what I assumed were our meals on each side. The trees surrounding it were filled with twinkling lights, giving the entire setup a magical ambiance.
“Wow,” I whispered.
“I hope you like Italian. I felt like it was the safest bet.”
I nodded. I liked whatever he wanted me to eat. This was … this was incredible.
“How …” I paused, shaking my head in amazement. “How did you do all this?”
“Made a few calls,” he replied simply, as if this had been easy to pull off.
“You made a few calls?” I asked, smiling at how ridiculous that sounded.
He’d done more than make a few calls. He had spent a lot of time and money on this.
“I’ve worked up an appetite,” he said, leading me toward the chair to my left.
I watched as he pulled it out, then nodded at me to take a seat. I didn’t move, but just stood there, soaking it in. Him in. This entire moment in.
He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
I licked my lips, then laughed. “Nothing. I’m just … this is all …” Pausing, I tried to think of the right way to say this. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before.”
He flashed me a cocky grin. “Then, you’ve been dating the wrong men.”
“Boys,” I supplied, walking over and taking a seat. “I’ve been dating boys.”
He pushed my chair in, then leaned down close to my ear. “Let’s change that.”
I sucked in a breath and inhaled his clean scent. Mint and spice. Whatever it was, I wished I could bury my head in his chest and stay there.
Amory lifted the dome in front of me to reveal a pasta dish—I didn’t know the name of it, but it was creamy-looking and smelled divine.
“Spaghetti alla carbonara,” he told me. “It’s one of my favorites.”
He set the dome down on the grass beside us, then walked around to sit in the chair across from me. The small candle between us was in a crystal holder that kept it safe from the evening breeze. He’d had to have help. It hadn’t been lit very long, and the silver bucket—filled with ice and a bottle of wine—was clearly chilled, but the ice wasn’t melted. I looked around us for any way someone could have gotten here without me seeing or hearing them pass by. The only option I could tell was that they had come from the other side of the property. It was dark, so I couldn’t see, but I assumed there was a road or building out that way.
He reached over to pick up a long, narrow dish that had a linen napkin over it, and he removed the cloth to reveal bread, along with an oil, then placed it between us.
“I’m not a wine drinker,” he told me. “But Minna informed me that white wine would be the best choice.” He pulled it from the bucket and looked at it. “Frascati. I’m sure it’s good. She’s excellent at pairing the best wines with foods.”
I had no clue what that was, but it was white wine and probably cost a fortune.
“Who is Minna?” I asked, trying not to sound like a jealous female.
He took the wineglass in front of me and began to fill it. “Minna is our cook. She’s been with my family a very long time. To be honest, Mexican is her specialty, but she agreed with me that Italian was a better option for tonight.”
He had a cook. Of course he did. His father had built the college football stadium. They probably had an entire staff at his house.
“It smells amazing,” I told him as he handed me my glass.
“She’s the best,” he replied, then poured his wine.
I lifted the glass to my lips and tasted it. Oh, yes, this was expensive. No wine I had ever tasted went down so smoothly.
“Good?” he asked.
I giggled and nodded my head, setting the glass down. “Not the right word. I could drink the entire bottle.” Not that I would. One glass was going to be my limit.
He grinned and reached for the bread, tearing off a piece and then dipping it into the seasoned oil before holding it out to me. “She makes this from scratch. Both the bread and the oil.”
I needed a Minna in my life. I took it from him. “If you watch me eat this, I won’t be able to enjoy it properly.”
He tore off another piece, then soaked it in the dip before putting it into his mouth and taking a bite. I watched his jaw as he chewed and the way his muscle flexed in his neck. God, that was nice to look at.