Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“My winter chariot,” he said as he opened my door, adding, “I like the boots.”
There was snow on the ground, so I’d worn my insulated winter boots instead of the flats Marlowe recommended.
“Thanks.”
He’d picked me up for dinner instead of meeting me and complimented me twice. I had a nervous twinge that made me give him a skeptical look.
“What?” he asked.
“This is just a friendly dinner, right?” I clarified. “We’re doing separate checks and like…fist-bumping at the end?”
He laughed, bringing out the laugh lines that were probably my favorite of his features.
“I’ve never met anyone like you, Shelby.”
What did that mean, though? Did he see me as a challenge because I was more neurotic and less glitzy than the women he was used to? Because that didn’t even make sense. I had to credit Beau with one thing—I definitely couldn’t figure him out.
“Yeah, we can fist-bump if you want,” he said. “And no, I’m not trying to get you into bed. Unless you want me to.”
Ugh, how cringeworthy would that be?
“No, I don’t want that. I mean, no offense. You’re great, but I’m done with dating.”
“Done?” He glanced over at me as he stopped at a light.
“Yeah, I tried for years. And now that I can hopefully have a baby all on my own, I don’t need a man.”
“But do you ever want one? If you don’t mind me asking.”
All the awful first dates flooded through my mind. Once I filtered out the unstable men and the ones only looking for sex, there weren’t many left. And if they were somebody I could see myself with, the feeling was never mutual. It was a roller coaster of rising and falling hopes, and it had felt good to just step onto level ground again by deciding not to do it anymore.
“Honestly, no,” I said. “You said you’ve never met anyone like me, and I think the men I went out with would agree. I know who I am, and I know it’s not what most men want. Or maybe any men. I’m uptight and set in my ways. For a long time, I tried to change and be like other women. But finally, I decided I’m happy just being myself. I like me. That’s all that really matters.”
As he pulled into the parking lot of a steakhouse, Beau said, “I admire that. And when I said you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I like that about you.”
I had no idea how to respond to that, so I went with the safe choice and said nothing. Beau parked the car and met my gaze, then looked at his watch.
“I made a reservation and we’re right on time. And I’ll make you a deal.”
“A deal?”
“I won’t put the moves on you, but I am paying the check tonight. I asked you to dinner and that’s what I do anytime I ask a friend to dinner.”
“Are we friends?”
He grinned. “I hope so.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
The restaurant was a local favorite, a small crowd gathered around the waiting area. Since we had a reservation, we were led to our table right away.
“Beau Fox,” someone said as we passed them. “Dude, I think that’s Beau Fox from the Coyotes.”
Beau turned and gave him a quick smile and nod. What was that like, having people recognize you in public?
Our table for two was tucked into a corner of the restaurant, the walls nearby adorned with old news clippings about Denver’s history. Beau immediately ordered a basket of the restaurant’s rolls and the whipped cinnamon butter they were known for.
“So you’ve never been here?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I mostly cook for myself or DoorDash.”
“I think you’ll like it. Their steaks are phenomenal.”
He was right about the rolls. They melted in my mouth and I was considering a second one when he sat back in his seat, elbows on the table as he seemed to study me.
“You said you moved around a lot as a kid,” he said. “Before you moved in with your grandparents. Was there any place you liked best?”
I answered immediately. “Chicago. We lived in an apartment above a laundromat and a martial arts studio when I was twelve. My mom…well, I already told you she’s bipolar. She would have episodes sometimes where she locked me out of the apartment. Sometimes it lasted several days. The owner of the martial arts place saw me sitting at the top of the stairway one of those times, because I had nowhere else to go. His name was Doug. He asked if he could hire me to clean his studio in exchange for meals and free self-defense lessons.”
“Sounds like a good guy to have in your corner,” Beau said.
“The best.” My throat tightened as I remembered his kindness. “And he made it sound like he needed my help, but really all I did was sweep the floor. He made me feel important for the first time in my life. That was the hardest place for me to leave when my mom fell behind and couldn’t pay rent anymore.”