Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
I shake my head. “No, that’s it.”
He leads me through the office, and people are looking at us curiously as he lets everyone know we’re heading out. I avoid most everyone’s looks, but I do see Carrie wink at me. I feel the heat rise in my face as I follow Elijah out the door.
He helps me to my car. “I’ll pick you up at Kane’s apartment.”
I drive toward home, but the whole time, I’m looking in the rearview mirror. As soon as I pull into the complex parking lot, Elijah pulls in behind me.
He gets out, helps me from the car, and then walks me around to the passenger side.
We’re halfway across town before I think about my brother. “Oh, I should probably text Kane and let him know I won’t be home for dinner.”
He nods. “Yeah, but I want to let you know that I already told him. I was excited you said yes to dinner, so I told him.”
I turn in my seat. “You were excited about us having dinner?”
He smiles widely. “Yes.”
We drive across town, and he pulls into a gated driveway. I’m in awe of the house and barely remember to close my mouth when he looks over at me.
I hate to say it, but this is a little bit awkward with the silence. Usually, we talk, but this feels different. As he parks, I’m about to open the door, and he tells me to hold on.
He jogs around his truck and opens the door, helping me down.
He leads me inside and takes my purse from me.
“Can I show you around?”
I nod and follow him from room to room. His house is nothing like I imagined, but it fits him perfectly. All the wood is big and dark and bold. The rooms are cozy and welcoming. He shows me his bedroom and the spare rooms, and then we end up back in the living room. “What do you think about grilled chicken for dinner?”
“It sounds good. Put me to work.”
He guides me to the kitchen with his hand on the small of my back. His touch is like an imprint on me and heats up my body.
“I didn’t bring you here to cook for me.”
I lean against the counter. “I’m trying to figure out exactly why you brought me here.”
He grabs lettuce and vegetables from the refrigerator and sets them on the counter. He ignores my question. “You want to do the salad?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
He gives me a cutting board and knife, and I get to work. I keep watching him out of the corner of my eye, trying to make sense of all this.
He gets out the chicken, preps it, and turns on his indoor grill. He’s quick and efficient, and as I finish cutting up all the vegetables for the salad, he has chicken grilled and potatoes made.
He quickly sets the table, and we both sit down to eat.
A few bites in, I see him watching me, and I know I can’t just go on without any answers. “What is this?”
He stabs a piece of chicken. “Dinner.”
I try to let his answer placate me, but it doesn’t. I’m someone that always needs answers. I don’t like surprises, and now I like them less and less. I stab the salad with my fork, and we eat in silence until it becomes too much for me. “This is really good, Eli.”
It feels like instead of eating, he’s watched me the whole time, but he agrees. “The salad is really good too.”
I point at his food. Heck, he’s barely touched it. “You haven’t eaten anything.”
He shakes his head and forces his gaze to his plate. “Sorry, I’m enjoying watching you.”
My eyes widen, and I swallow the bite I just ate. I set my fork down and straighten my shoulders. “What’s going on?”
He looks at me with confusion.
I gesture to the food and then us. “What is this? Did you bring me here to let me go or—”
He cuts me off. “No, of course not. I won’t lie to you, Sass. You know that. Well, I take that back. I have lied to you before, but I’ll never do it again.”
A cold chill goes down my back. “You lied to me? When? About what?”
He’s still, watchful, and speaks very slowly, as if he’s worried that what he’s about to say is going to bother me. “Five years ago, when we kissed, I lied to you and told you it was because of the alcohol.”
I grip the edge of the table, needing something to hold on to. “Why did you kiss me?”
He reaches for me but must think twice, and his hand drops to the table just a few inches from mine. “I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I couldn’t imagine not kissing you.”
I shake my head, confused. “But—”