Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Chase makes it to his feet before I do and holds out a hand for me to take and climb up. I take it—honestly, I’m kind of scared not to—and he takes off at a brisk clip down Michigan Avenue.
“Chase?” I question, churning my legs behind him so that Benji and I can keep up. “Are you mad?”
He stops then, turning around to face me, and without hesitation, pulls me into a hug. It’s warm and crushing without hurting, and supportive both physically and emotionally. I think this one embrace heals something inside me I didn’t know was broken.
“No,” he murmurs into the top of my hair. “Of course I’m not mad. I’m taking the lead. If you don’t have a plan, am I right to assume you don’t mind?”
“You’re going to spend the day in the city with me and figure out what we do?” I snort. “Are you kidding? That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Good,” he remarks, pulling me away enough to place a kiss on the top of my head where his chin used to be.
Um, excuse me? What is happening?
Did his lips just touch me?
Your forehead, honey. Just your forehead. Relax.
“Then I figured we’d start with coffee,” he announces while teenage me scribbles “I heart Chase Dawson” all over her science notebook. “I could really use a cup of coffee.”
I tell teenage me to take a hike and nod in agreement with his caffeine plan. “Sounds great.”
I also have absolutely no questions about why he might need coffee so desperately. I am the reason, and I accept that. Taylor Swift has it so right. I am the problem. It’s me.
He jerks his head in the direction of the sidewalk ahead. “Then come on. Let’s go.”
I fall into synchronized step beside him, though my legs are shorter than his, and without a word, he reaches over and laces his fingers in between mine. My hand is so small compared to his larger one, and the feel is so unbelievably intimate, I don’t dare say or do anything that might break the spell.
Seas of people on the crowded sidewalks part for him, and I trail in the wake happily as he approaches a place called The Black Crow on the corner of the next block up. It’s a modern-looking place on the outside, but upon entering the door, I see it’s filled with vintage furniture and crowded shelves with various knickknacks, and maybe best of all…books.
The Black Crow is a combination coffee shop and bookstore, and Chase Dawson found it within five minutes of arriving in Chicago.
That gets me thinking as he very gently drags me to the coffee counter, where a barista stands at the ready. I wait for him to order and murmur my own—because I’ll take caffeine in any form at any time of day, thank you very much—and then, as the barista goes to make our drinks, I fire off the question that’s been sitting on the tip of my tongue. “Have you been to Chicago before?”
“Twice. Both times when I was under the age of eighteen.”
“And yet, you found this place in the matter of a heartbeat?”
He winks. “I’m taller than you. I can see farther down the street.”
“What?” I ask with a hoot as the barista hands over my coffee first—a white mocha—and then his—an Americano.
“I didn’t know this was here until I saw it from a block away.”
“Well, sir. You have unbelievable luck then, because this place has coffee and books. I don’t know of anything better than a combination of the two…unless there’s wine. I like when there’s wine.”
“They probably have wine in the afternoons.”
I giggle like a damn schoolgirl and put my cup to my mouth to take a sip, but he pulls on my hand before I have a chance to get any liquid, and once again, we’re on the move. This time, into the depths of the store on a mission only Chase knows.
“Where are we going?” I ask on a whisper as we pass a man at a table who appears very focused on whatever is on the screen of his laptop.
“To find a book.”
“Oh, cool! Are you looking to read something specific? Maybe we can both pick one out and read it together?”
“I like that idea, but given the timeline with your own manuscript, I have a little bit of a different idea.”
“Oh yeah? What?”
He flashes that stupid sexy wink of his at me. “You’ll see.”
I follow along as he searches the shelves with avid concentration, useless in my ignorance. I don’t know what we’re looking for, which makes it hard for me to find anything.
“Chase,” I call again as he moves into another section and starts scanning the shelves. “What are you looking for? Maybe I can help.”
I’ve barely uttered the words when he grabs a book by the spine and pulls it off the shelf, tucking it to his chest and heading for the front register with long strides of his toned legs.