Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Before long, she brings my basket of food and sets it down, along with my usual bottles of ketchup, mustard, and a side of ranch.
My eyes flit to her name tag.
D.
“Are you ever going to tell me what the D stands for?”
Delicious.
Delectable.
Damn amazing.
Dirty.
Dreamy.
“No,” she says and sets that hand on her hip again. “What’s your name?”
I lift an eyebrow and bite a french fry. “I think it’s only fair that if I tell you mine, you do the same.”
She shakes her head slowly and bites her lower lip.
“Duchess it is then.” I chew a bite of my burger, watching her. “It suits you.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’re gorgeous, and you just look like a duchess.”
“Okay, Hotshot,” she replies, rolling her eyes.
“Wow, we have nicknames for each other.” I sip my coffee. “Looks like it’s true love. We’d better run away together and live happily ever after.”
She smirks, and then she gives me that full smile that makes me feel like I just won the motherfucking lottery.
“Christ, that’s pretty.”
“Eat your food, Hotshot. I’ll be back.”
I’m going to ask her out this week. It’s getting harder and harder to stay away from her, and it would look damn fucking stupid if I came into the diner every day of the week for lunch just so I can see Duchess.
I’m sitting in my booth when movement catches my eye, but when I look up, with a quip on my lips, ready to flirt my ass off, a blond woman smiles down at me.
“What can I get you to drink?”
“Uh, where’s the woman who usually works on Tuesdays? D?”
“Oh, she quit last week. I’m not sure where she went, to be honest. I’m taking this shift now.”
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
I never got her real name.
I never asked for her number or if I could take her out.
And now she’s gone.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asks again.
“No thanks.” I stand and head for the door, my stomach rolling over.
Fuck.
CHAPTER ONE
TUCKER
“What are we, twelve?” I glare at my best friend of thirty years, Zack, and the asshole smirks before he tugs me in for a hug, clapping my back. “Only you would come home once in a blue moon and want to meet up at the ice cream shop.”
“Fuck off, it’s the best ice cream in the world,” he says. “And I should know. Don’t be grouchy just because you missed me. I’ll be home for a whole week.”
Shaking my head, we walk into Sundae’s, and the bell above the door jingles, alerting every one of our arrival.
It’s a good thing that Silver Springs is a sleepy town, especially on a Wednesday afternoon, because if we were anywhere else, Zack would be surrounded by a horde of women and maybe accosted. I’ve played bodyguard more than once in our friendship.
I always wanted to stay in our home town and take over the ranch from my father, which I’ve done. Zack wanted to be famous.
And he is. Actually, famous is an understatement. I don’t think there’s anyone in the world who wouldn’t recognize him from one of the dozens of movies he’s starred in. From the cologne ads, the award shows, the tabloids. Talk shows. You name it, his face has been on it.
We couldn’t be more different. Maybe that’s why we’re still such good friends. I’m not a yes-man, I don’t blow smoke up his ass, and he knows that when shit gets to be too much, he can always come home for a good heaping dose of reality.
“Welcome in.” Indie, the owner of the ice cream shop, greets us with a smile. Shit, we’ve known her since she was just a kid. Her grandparents opened this shop fifty years ago, and she’s worked here since before she was a teenager. “I think spring has finally sprung out there.”
She tucks her dark hair behind her ear and gives us a smile, her dimples winking at us. To her credit, she doesn’t cry and faint at the sight of my megastar best friend.
It’s happened. I’ve seen it.
“Are Esther and Art around?” Zack asks. “I’d like to say hello.”
Indie doesn’t even flinch. “Oh, they passed away about two years ago.”
I press my lips together. I told him that after it happened, but I’m not surprised that he doesn’t remember. It’s not because he’s an asshole or he doesn’t care. There’s a lot going on in Zack’s head.
“Oh shit. I’m sorry, I hadn’t heard. They had a granddaughter who used to work here. Cute little thing. She liked to pour the sprinkles on my cone.”
Indie grins at him. “Indigo?”
“That’s her.”
“That’s me,” she replies and smiles again. “Hi, Zack. Welcome home.”
Zack stands shell shocked next to me. Indie isn’t the little girl who sat on a stool behind the counter doing homework in between customers anymore. Gone are the braces and glasses and awkward teenage body. She’s grown into a beautiful woman with all her curves and her thick hair, pulled up in a messy bun today.