Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Removing my apron, I place it behind the counter. I’m mentally and physically done for the night, so I sit on the other side of the table from him. He looks up and grins. Removing his earbuds, he asks, “What brings you around, Story?”
“Tossed in the towel. It’s just you and me and the storm outside.”
He looks around in surprise as if he hasn’t noticed the empty room until now. He chuckles. “I fuck up a lot, but I refuse to let my professor be right. This paper is due on her desk by nine o’clock.”
“How much power do you have left?”
“Forty-three minutes, apparently.”
“Can you finish it in that time?”
“No. I have at least two hours of work left to do.” He scrubs his hands over his face and sighs as if exhaustion is about to win the battle. “My apartment lost power. The library was dark, and the bookstore kicked me out when they closed early because of the storm. This coffee shop was a saving grace, but even it can’t save my ass this time.”
I push to my aching feet again and stare at him. The flirting was fun. It feels good to be looked at like I’m as tasty as our homemade cinnamon buns. Even better that I find myself drawn to him for more than just his looks. There’s a vibe that I’m attracted to, one I’d like to explore a little more. Take a chance, Story. “Come on. We can go to my place.”
He sits up, the right corner of his lips following suit. “Your place?”
I swerve my finger through the air. “We’re talking about electricity—”
“I consider it more chemistry that we’re sharing.”
“Ha,” I scoff with a quick roll of my eyes. He’s right, but something is so satisfying about not giving him the upper hand. “Look, I texted a neighbor to check in on her, and it seems my rinky-dink building has managed to survive the outage so far. So, if this paper is as important as you say it is, the offer is out there.” I leave him watching me walk away.
Who cares if it’s dark in here? He gets the drift.
“Either way, I need to lock up, so you can’t stay here,” I add.
The zipper of his backpack, the sound of his laptop closing, the loose change in his pocket, and then the shuffle of his feet are heard as he slips on his wool coat. “Your place it is, but I have to warn you . . .”
Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t have thrown that invitation out so fast. Just because he seems like a nice guy doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer. I pull the pepper spray from my back pocket and turn back, holding it in the air. “About?”
His gaze volleys between the pepper spray and me before he chooses to stay on my eyes. “Don’t get mixed up with me, okay, Story?” he asks, his decidedly somber tone putting me on edge. With his hands shoved deep inside the pockets of his jeans, I don’t worry about my physical well-being. After having a good time with him, flirting or whatever we’ve been doing, I can’t say the same about my mental state.
Taken aback by the question, I ask, “But you asked me out? Thursday at seven, remember?”
“I shouldn’t have asked you out.”
“Wow,” I say through a sigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone revoke an invitation for a date before.” I give him a thumbs-up and then move to put on my coat. “Thanks for the ego boost. It goes well with being stiffed, not only for the food and drinks tonight but also my tips.” Turning around, I throw my arms out wide. “Basically, I was working for free tonight, so this is just the cherry on top.”
He comes closer, each step tentative as the floor creaks under his feet. “I don’t mean it that way. Sincerely, I find you incredibly enticing and would love to take you out on a date.”
“Enticing?” I slip my arms into the sleeves of my coat, then reach for my hat. I laugh, but I’m not humored by this turnabout. “What are you, a vampire?” Flipping my hair to one side, I expose my neck. “Should I call you Edward?”
This time, he chuckles. It’s real and hardy and worth making a fool of myself to hear. “No.” He snatches my hat, then pulls it onto the top of my head. Still holding the knit by the sides away from my ears, he says, “Just a guy who already knows I’m no good for you.”
He returns to his bag and swings it onto his shoulders. I say, “Lucky for you, I never did have a good sense about men. Let’s go.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” As if he’s resolved to our fate, he walks to the door behind me.