Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“Natalie?”
“Holy fucking crap.” I gasped and sat up straight. I heard it was Ethan, but Jesus Christ, text first! “Ethan?”
He appeared between the counters in the shop and walked closer, holding a takeout bag.
He paused in the doorway and wrinkled his forehead. “Didn’t life in New York teach you to close and lock the door?”
Oh shit. I’d forgotten to close it. The shop still smelled like paint…
Fuck me, he was hot. It was difficult to focus on much of anything other than him.
If I didn’t know any better, part of the changes he was going through included becoming comfortable with his age, and that was just so damn sexy.
“I’m trying to air out the paint smell,” I said. “What’re you doing here?”
“I was on my way home for the night.” He leaned against the doorway, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I thought you were just playing hooky when I saw you were working.”
Oh. I chuckled. “I wish.”
“Yeah, you look…”
I raised a brow.
He smirked. “You look like you’re enjoying that blanket a whole lot.”
I snorted softly. I bet I looked like a train wreck. Almost no makeup, hair up in a messy bun, leggings, a too-big button-down with paint on it, and whatever virus was currently taking up residence in me.
“I promise you, if I need a day off the exercise regime, I’ll tell you.” I’d done it before. “I don’t want to get you sick, though, so you might wanna keep your distance.”
He cocked his head and observed me. “What’re we talking here—Ebola or the sniffles?”
Damn him, he always knew how to make me laugh.
“I don’t know yet. It’s just been an off day. Headaches, sensitivity… I’ve missed my bed since lunch.”
He nodded once. “Probably not Ebola, then.”
I grinned.
“Well… Have you eaten?”
I squinted. “Um, I had an egg white omelet with spinach and chicken for my first meal,” I said. “Then I had a bagel when I dragged my butt out to shop with Isla—you know her?”
He inclined his head, his sexy greenish-blue eyes taking on some mirth. “I went to school with her man.”
Right. They probably all knew each other around here.
“Also, I was mainly asking if you’ve had dinner,” he said.
Oh. I stifled another yawn. “That’s still on the list. I might pick somethin’ up on the way home. Coho Bar & Grill has a chicken sandwich that isn’t too unhealthy.”
He held up his takeout bag briefly. “I have tomato soup and fresh bread,” he answered. “And half a rotisserie chicken in the fridge. Ma’s baked ziti too. And ice cream in the freezer. If that sounds better than walking home in the rain.”
I blinked. Was he inviting me up to his place for supper?
“I don’t know about you,” he continued, “but when I don’t feel well, I prefer having someone else heat my food while I feel sorry for myself on the couch.”
Holy crap, he was inviting me upstairs.
My stomach tightened with a rush of nervousness and anticipation, and I wasn’t sure I had the strength to say no. That was the whole damn problem with Ethan. It was so hard to keep my distance when he was all charming and kind and clearly not giving a rat’s ass about keeping our relationship 100% professional.
I felt my mouth twist into a smile. “What kind of ice cream? I thought you didn’t have a sweet tooth.”
He chuckled. “You’re gonna laugh, but every now and then, I get a hankering for vanilla ice cream and mini pretzels.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Like, you crush them in there, or…”
He shrugged. “I dip them.”
Salty and sweet.
“I don’t know why I’d laugh—my ice cream habit is way weirder than yours,” I responded. “I eat ice cream with a fork.”
He blanched at that. “A fork?”
I nodded and returned the blanket to the basket next to my chair. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, is all I’m sayin’.” I rose to my feet and drew an unsteady breath, and I suddenly had a million butterflies wreaking havoc in my stomach. “My headache is bad enough for me to accept your invitation and postpone a dreary walk home.”
He cranked up the charm again, as if my answer made him genuinely happy, and I didn’t fucking know what to do with that. Was there even the remote chance of him being interested in someone like me, or was he maybe…I don’t know, simply trying to recruit a new friend? We did have family in common, which blurred the lines.
“Perfect. It’s been a long time since I had exciting Friday night plans.” He was probably joking. “This will put Ma at ease. She worries sometimes I’m becoming a hermit like Darius.”
I laughed softly. “Your definition of exciting might need some work, but I’ll be happy to put your mother at ease.” Not that I believed for a second that having soup with me was something he’d share with her.