Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
“Yeah, give me the spiked orange cream shake, please.”
“Sure. Can I see your ID?”
I should’ve been flattered she wanted to see my ID for the drink. I fished in my purse and got it out, showing her. When she handed it back, I shoved it in my wallet and watched her walk away. I’d have just enough time to suck down this drink, giving me a little bit of liquid courage to get through this night. I closed my eyes and placed my fingers at my temples, rubbing slow circles. I was already tired and the night had just begun.
It wasn’t more than five minutes later that my drink was being set in front of me, topped with whipped cream and a cherry. This was pretty much a meal itself, and if I were being honest, I didn’t see myself stopping at just this one alcoholic beverage.
Rocco’s wasn’t just a burger joint. It also had a full bar, pool table, a jukebox pressed against the corner, and a dance floor. It had a retro ‘50s feel to it, with oldies music playing overhead and a lot of the customers more my parents’ age. But their burgers were incredible, their shakes the best I’d ever had, and when they added some hard liquor to them… it made this place my favorite in the whole city.
For the next fifteen minutes, I sat there and sucked down that orange spiked shake. By the time I was slurping up the last of the whipped cream at the bottom, I felt that warm, familiar buzz from the liquor start to make its way through my veins.
I kept glancing at the door, expecting my date to walk through at any moment. I’d never gone on a blind date before, but it almost seemed like knowing more than just his first name would probably be a lot better, and safer. If he weren’t connected to Michael in some way, I would’ve said hell no to this little rendezvous.
The waitress came by and picked up the empty glass, and I ordered another one. Why the hell not? I heard someone enter and looked over to the door, my heart instantly racing, because it had to be him, right? But it was just a woman with her two kids, the girl and boy fighting over some little toy.
I exhaled slowly and leaned back in my seat. I was nervous as hell and I hated that. I reached in my purse for my cell phone, about to use it for some distraction. I heard someone else come in and looked up, seeing a man and a woman walk into Rocco’s. I noticed instantly they both looked out of place. I also noticed the man was attractive. Like really good-looking.
He wore a pair of dark slacks, nice, expensive-looking loafers, and the white shirt I could see underneath his dark tweed jacket was pressed almost severely. The first few buttons were undone on his shirt, the material open slightly to where I could see his tanned, muscular flesh.
He had an olive complexion, and his dark, hair short was styled impeccably. He looked like he should be in the business district of the city. They both did.
The woman behind him looked like she’d stepped into the wrong restaurant, like she wanted to see how it was on the “other” side of town, what with her Jimmy Choos, her no doubt designer pencil skirt that showed off her perfect body, and her tiny sweater that was probably made from cashmere. Her long blonde hair was styled sleekly, and she was wearing so much makeup I wondered what she really looked like without it on.
The man stopped and glanced around the restaurant then his gaze landed on me. I felt my heart jump into my throat. He held my gaze a little too long, given the fact that I was stranger, and I felt my cheeks heat.
I forced my attention to the woman he’d walked in with, and, surprising the hell out of me, she stood off to the side and greeted a man who entered. He looked just as elegantly dressed as she did, but he was far less attractive than the man who I thought she’d come with.
The woman and newly entered man looked around Rocco’s, and I saw the distaste cover their expressions right before they left.
Yeah, they’d been in the wrong establishment for sure.
I still felt like I was being watched and looked over to where the first—very attractive—man had been standing. But I gasped in shock when he was standing right by my table, looking down at me, this curious expression on his face.
“Olive?”
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
He’s here for me?
I cleared my throat and looked around. Maybe there was another Olive he was meeting, another blind date happening at Rocco’s. I felt like a damn idiot for even thinking that, but this man was certainly not who I expected to meet tonight.