Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“Oh, we will,” Dante said, grinning and looking into my eyes before going back to kissing me. Eventually one of the cooks came out of the kitchen carrying a big brown paper bag, which he handed to my date. Dante thanked him and gave him some cash, then took my hand and led me out the back door. Phase two of our date was under way.
Chapter Three
We cut through Golden Gate Park and double-parked in front of my apartment in the Sunset. Dante and I worked as a team, and got all the big black garbage bags lined up against a wall of my living room in just a couple minutes. He volunteered to go and park my truck, and while he did that I unpacked our dinner, using an upended plastic milk crate as our table.
He came in through my open front door and closed and locked it behind him as he said, “I like what you’ve done here,” indicating the milk crate with the two spaghetti dinners balanced on it. “Very Lady and the Tramp. But it’s missing something.” He sat down on the floor and reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a sleek silver lighter, then juryrigged it somehow so it would stay on. He slid the end of the lighter between the diamond-shaped weave of the milk crate so it was standing upright, then said, “There we go. Candlelight.”
“Well, lighter light, technically, but it’s cute. Do you smoke?”
“No.”
“Then why do you carry a lighter?”
“Because sometimes,” he said with a little smile, “you need a lighter.”
“Like when you’re recreating a scene from a Disney movie.”
“Exactly.” He picked up a bottle of red wine that I’d been surprised to find included in the takeout bag, and said, “Do you have a corkscrew?”
“Uh, no. I don’t even have a chair. Why would I have a corkscrew?”
He grinned and pulled out a little pocket knife, and folded out a tiny corkscrew.
“What else have you got in that jacket, MacGyver?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He winked at me and worked the corkscrew expertly, and soon pulled the cork out with a flourish. “Should I even ask about glasses?”
“Nope.”
He considered this for a beat, then said, “Alright,” and took a sip directly from the bottle before passing it to me. “This has been a night of many firsts. I don’t think I’ve ever drunk directly from a wine bottle before. Nor have I had a picnic on a milk crate.”
“Nor have you hopped fences, picked locks, or faced down killer zombie lap dogs. It has been a night of many firsts for you. Makes me think you don’t get out much,” I teased. It felt surprisingly comfortable, hanging out with Dante, joking with him. More so than I’d have ever predicted when I first met him.
“Apparently I don’t,” he agreed. “This night, and you, have been wonderfully unexpected.” He held my gaze, a slow, easy smile illuminating his handsome face.
“Here’s to more nights like this one.” I raised the wine bottle in a toast before taking a sip. Then I immediately erupted into a totally unflattering coughing fit, shielding my mouth with the crook of my elbow. His response to that was to offer me a clean handkerchief with a little grin. “Seriously?” I choked out, but as I said that, I took the handkerchief and used it to blot my watering eyes.
I loved the way his dark eyes sparkled when he found something funny. He asked, “So, how’s the wine?”
“So gross. Gah. It’s like drinking turpentine.”
“And you’d know this because you’ve drunk a lot of turpentine?”
“Uh, no. But I’ve smelled turpentine, and can easily imagine that it would taste exactly like that crap.”
Dante smiled widely, then picked up the bottle and took a sip. When he put it down again, he said, “This is actually an excellent vintage.”
“Ugh. Don’t go all wine snob on me. That’s so annoying.” I was smiling though as I said that, and got up and went into the kitchen. I was back moments later with two cans of soda. “It’s bad enough you showed up to go breaking and entering in a three thousand dollar suit. If you prove to be a wine snob on top of that, then there’s just no hope for you.”
“I’m curious. How exactly did you arrive at that dollar amount for this suit?” he asked as he slipped out of his jacket and set it on the floor beside him.
“I picked what I considered a totally unreasonable amount to spend on a suit, and then I doubled it. How far off am I?”
“You’re fairly close,” he said with an enigmatic smile as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves back.
“Oh man. If you tell me my three thousand dollar estimate is actually too low, then I really can’t hang out with you anymore,” I told him with a smirk, and reached for a slice of garlic bread.