Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 138775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
I didn’t know much about baseball, but maybe I could get him talking about one of the other two.
Or both.
It took me a minute to figure out an approach, but then I turned to him and tried to keep my voice casual and carefree. “Hey, I was wondering if you could help me understand something. About guys. About how they think.”
Kyle didn’t take his eyes off the road, but he answered quickly enough. “Maybe they don’t think. My grades are proof of that.” It was a clear attempt to lighten the mood, and I appreciated it, even if I felt I didn’t deserve it.
“Just wait until you get your paper back. You might be surprised.”
“Not likely,” he said succinctly. “And women always say they want to know how men think—and then they’re often horrified by what they find out.”
“I’ll risk it. I think you might be able to help me understand because this is someone you know.”
“Ah, one of the great brains back at the house.”
“No. It’s this other guy.” I braved looking at him. His face was neutral, which was better than glum. “You see, this guy asked me if I’d go on a date with him, but then he never followed up after that.”
Kyle’s expression morphed into a reluctant grin. “Did he actually ask you or did he blackmail you into it?”
“I forget the details.”
He gave a low laugh, and I was so glad to hear that sound. He took a deep breath. “Okay, school’s in session, little tutor. I’m going to let you in on a huge secret about men.”
He cocked a finger at me, and I leaned in. He brought his head close, his eyes still facing forward, and whispered, “Most men are idiots.”
I laughed, straightening back up, thrilled that he was acting more like himself. “That’s not a secret.”
“True. But there are some exceptions. Some men are handsome, charming, and know how to handle their bat.” He smirked. “Like I did at the game yesterday, I mean.”
“Sure that’s what you meant.” My relief at the change in mood was making me feel playful.
“I always mean what I say, Victoria. Just like I meant it when I asked you on a date.”
“Blackmailed me for a date.”
“I forget the details.” His use of my line from before made me laugh. “But I do still want to take you out. A deal’s a deal, and I showed up at your nerd convention.”
“Study group.”
“Same difference. Anyway, I was waiting for the right time for our date.”
“When’s the right time?” It felt like he was stalling.
“Sunday night.”
My pulse quickened. “Sunday? Why Sunday?”
“Because the thing I want to take you to is happening this Sunday.”
That seemed strange, and I couldn’t quite figure out if he was serious or not. But I kind of preferred the narrative that he’d been waiting for the right time over a scenario in which he’d forgotten. “What happens on Sunday night?”
“Magic, Victoria. I’m going to rock your world. Make you see stars. Make you scream my name.”
All of that would have been hot—and indeed, my heart rate sped up—if he hadn’t said it all so flippantly.
“So you say.” It was an effort to keep my voice steady. “Where exactly are you going to do this?”
“In my bed, or up against the wall, or—”
“Kyle.”
He grinned. “When you say my name in that no-nonsense tone, I can totally see you as a future high school English teacher.”
I looked away, but I was smiling. Even though he was teasing, I still liked hearing it. So many people took one look at me and assumed I was too small or delicate to teach high school.
A hand stroked my hair, and I leaned into his touch for a moment.
His voice was rumbly. “Okay, I’ll stop teasing. Here’s the deal. I’m taking you to sort of a… well, like a pop-up restaurant. Or at least one that’s not there all the time. But it is this weekend, for one night only, and I’d like for you to go with me.”
“What kind of place is it?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
What? “Why not?”
“It’s a secret.”
I blew out a huff of air, trying to make sense of that. “Is it fancy?”
“Yes. Very.”
“How fancy? Would the dress I wore the other night look out of place?”
He hesitated, which was an answer in and of itself. “It’s pretty damn fancy.”
“You said that already.”
“I can’t tell you all the details, but how about I tell you what I’m planning to wear?”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to wear a fitted black suit. Black shirt. Black shoes. And when you see me, you’re going to think you’re the luckiest girl in the world.”
“Because you’re wearing all black?” I scoffed. “So does Batman or Zorro.”
“Yes, I am like a superhero. But I don’t think you’re quite getting the full visual. A black suit so fitted that it’ll highlight every muscle on my body—especially the ones you drool over when you see me without my shirt. The jacket will sit snug on my shoulders—none of that baggy crap. It’s going to fit like a glove… and it’s going to look good.” He drew that last word out as I caught my breath. “So good that you’ll have to turn away out of fear you might come right then and there.”