Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Gorgeous Girl
I’ll be ready! What should I wear? :)
Me
Casual and comfortable.
I send the message as an idea goes off in my mind. Before I’m able to stop myself, I add another message.
Me
Or nothing at all. Your call.
Gorgeous Girl
Omg. See you at noon.
I laugh, picturing her rolling her eyes adorably, and finish packing up. I try not to think about how desperate I sound, but the truth is, I haven’t wanted anything this badly in forever.
The rest of the morning drags. I half-watch a soccer game on TV, but don’t remember a single play. Then, I take another shower and change my clothes twice like a lovesick idiot.
At eleven-forty, I load the picnic basket into the back of the SUV and head to her apartment.
I park out front and walk up to her door. I knock, and a moment later, Hazel pulls the door open, curls wild, sunglasses on, wearing a pink t-shirt and black yoga pants with white sneakers. The outfit hugs her in all the right places, and for a split second, I forget how to breathe. “Hey, gorgeous girl.” I inhale her sweet scent deep into my lungs.
“Hey, yourself.” She gives me a shy, sideways smile. “Are you always right on time?”
“For the most part,” I say, and it’s the truth. I pull her into my arms and kiss her. She melts against me, soft and perfect, her mouth opening under mine. Fuck. The second I taste her, I lose what’s left of my mind. I kiss Hazel like I need her to survive, like she’s the only thing tethering me to earth.
She makes a tiny noise in her throat and slides her hands up my chest, locking them behind my neck. Her body fits mine so goddamn well, it’s like the universe custom-built her just for me. I tighten my grip on her waist, fighting the urge to haul her up and carry her straight back inside, date be damned.
But I’ve been planning this for hours. I want to spoil her. I want her to smile every time she remembers this day.
I force myself to break the kiss, but I can’t let her go. I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in. “God. I needed that.”
“Me too.” She smiles up at me then turns and locks her door. I take her soft hand in mine and lead her out to my SUV.
We park at the old schoolhouse next to Worthington Hills Park. “I thought we’d have a picnic in the park,” I explain as I pull into the lot and kill the engine.
“How fun.” Hazel stretches, arms up, her whole body twisting like a sleepy cat. The T-shirt rides up, and I have to physically restrain myself from tracing the naked flesh right here in the front seat. She catches me looking and just smiles, pure mischief. “Oops.”
Oops, my ass. My girl is trying to torture me. And she’s doing a great fucking job at it. I help her out of the vehicle and grab the picnic basket and blanket.
We walk under the stone archway and cut across the lawn. I scope out the area and pick a spot by the big, modern sculpture in the center of the park. It’s basically a pile of steel cubes, but it’s shady and secluded, and I like the view.
After I lay out the blanket, Hazel flops down on the plaid wool and looks up at me expectantly. I ease down beside her, close enough that our shoulders brush every time we move.
She pops open the basket and lets out a delighted gasp. “You got me Gummy Nerds?” She plucks out the candy bag and holds it like a holy relic.
I watch her face light up. “You mentioned how much you love them,” I say. “I remember what’s important.”
She just shakes her head, eyes big and soft. “You’re dangerous, Preston Voss.”
“Ditto,” I say, but the words come out rougher than I mean them. I hand her a plate loaded with chicken and cheese, and she doesn’t wait for utensils, just goes right in, tearing off a chunk of sourdough with her fingers.
We eat in companionable silence for a while. Hazel eats like a woman who’s spent her life not apologizing for being hungry, and I like that. We both finish half the grapes and put a decent dent in the strawberries before either of us speaks again.
She leans back, sunglasses on, arms propped behind her. “Best day ever.”
“I concur.” Fuck. That’s the best I can come up with. It seems like I’ve lost my ability to articulate much of anything.
She snorts and rolls her eyes, then turns on her side and props her head on her hand, staring right at me. I resist the urge to kiss her, but only barely.
“So,” she says, and her voice is a little different now, softer, threaded with something new. I can practically feel her pulse ticking under her skin. “What’s next?”