Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Do you have the name?”
“Uh… I’m guessing it’s probably under Lemon Jello. Or you can check the name Underhill.”
The hostess furrows her brow at the stupid nicknames Neve thinks are hilarious (and uses on a regular basis at hotels and restaurants), but checks the book anyways.
Recognition makes her eyes light up like Christmas trees. “Oh yes, he and his guest are here.” She turns to the other hostess, who just walked up with menus. “Can you show these guests to table 24?”
The girl staring back at me wide-eyed, fork frozen above her plate in mid-air, is not the same girl I remember from the bar… or from my sisters apartment.
That girl was plain.
Mousy.
Frazzled.
A hot mess.
This girl is just… hot.
As in - fucking hot.
It takes a minute for the recognition to sink in, and we stare at each other… although oddly enough, Cecelia doesn’t look all that surprised to see me. I mean, maybe I’m just imagining it, but instead of shock across her pretty eyebrows, she just looks amused.
Okay. And maybe her eyes are narrowed in a slightly suspicious way, but that’s neither here nor there…
Neve on the other hand, looks stunned, and sets down his knife. “Wakefield, man, what are you doing here?”
Standing to greet me, he pumps my hand as I continue to eye fuck his date, who stares back.
“Yeah Wakefield, what are you doing here?” Cecelia’s pretty mouth moves sarcastically, and I’m transfixed by the candle light dancing off her glossy lips.
She looks amazing.
Gorgeous.
Sophisticated. Classy. All the words you would use for beautiful.
I wonder if she smells as good as she looks. My lip tips up and I almost smile at the thought, but compose myself and clear my throat to speak instead. “I had a date tonight with Stacy here, and this is where she wanted to go.”
I give Stacy a little shove.
My trusty sidekick nods her head vigorously beside me, her large boobs shaking beneath her slightly trashy sheer top.
Cecelia rolls her eyes - the light brown eyes she has artfully lined in heavy black coal. Man, there’s nothing I love more than a chick wearing lots of makeup. I mean – don’t get me wrong. I love the natural look too, and Cecelia is really cute without it, but now… She. Is. Smokin’.
“What a coincidence,” Cecelia smiles crookedly, eyes shining wickedly, and sets down her fork to dab her mouth with the corner of her linen napkin. When she’s done, she lies it back down in her lap, cocks her head in my direction, and lifts one of her eyebrows.
Her dark eyes continue boring into me, and she licks her lips. Immediately my eyes shift back to her mouth, and I swear she’s doing it on purpose.
My dick perks up. You know… like a horny teenager.
Except I’m not a teenager.
I’m a man… ish.
And sure - perhaps it’s time for me to act like one, but it’s probably not going to happen today. Or tomorrow.
Or this year if I’m being honest.
Whatever.
My point is, I’m practically drooling.
Beside me, I get nudged in the ribs by Stacy. “We came to say hi,” my decoy charitably puts in. “It’s a long wait for our table ‘cause Matty didn’t make a reservation on account of him only just calling me this afternoon for a date.”
Neve lets out a loud, gut busting laugh, causing my face to get beet red. I’m not sure if he’s laughing because he knows my presence here is crock of shit, or because I’m here with a ditz like Stacy.
Let’s face it: he knows I have no tolerance for stupidity, even from good looking chicks, and Stacy could win top prize for village idiot.
“Dude. You can’t just show up at this place. I made a rez over a week ago.” He winks at Cecelia, who giggles prettily and bats her long, sooty lashes.
Christ, how annoying can two people be?
“How long did you say the wait for a table was?” Neve asks as he dips his head and takes a bite of his dinner, which I can’t help noticing is blue cheese crusted filet and asparagus, on a bed of mashed potatoes.
Probably infused with buttery herbs and garlic.
My mouth begins watering.
“Look, I have to use the bathroom. Take a seat but don’t eat anything while I’m gone.” Neve sets his napkin aside and stands. Ever chivalrous, he smiles cajoling at my date and crooks his elbow. “Stacy, care to join?”
Cecelia
“So. What are you really doing here?”
“What do you mean?” Matthew looks at me innocently, now from across the table, widening his eyes and giving me another once over.
He’s been doing it since he walked in.
Which, quite honestly, I can’t believe he actually did. Showed up, I mean. Seriously – what kind of an asshole does that?
I cross my arms. “Oh please. Spare me. You did not drive Miss Mensa thirty miles out of town to come here. Even I’m not that stupid.” When I call his date Miss Mensa, I use air quotes around the nickname. “You’ve probably never even heard of this place before tonight.”