Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Max: I’d never noticed.
ME: I can’t tell if you’re being facetious or not.
Max: www.thewindysteakhouse.co.uk
ME: THE WINDY STEAKHOUSE?
Max: The name is deceiving. It’s actually quite posh.
ME: Do I get a side of hurricane with my sirloin?
Max: Stop.
ME: A little tornado with my T-bone?
Max: Jesus.
ME: Some thunder with my filet?
Max: Ellie, please.
ME: Who calls their restaurant THE WINDY STEAKHOUSE? Doesn’t instil a great deal of comfort in a diner.
Max: Asking you was clearly a terrible idea.
ME: Yes, thank you, I’m glad we agree.
ME: Also, I’ll be ready at six-thirty and will be waiting for you to pick me up.
Max: You are the strangest woman I’ve ever met.
ME: Thank you.
Max: I’m not sure that was a compliment.
ME: You should hear what the people inside my head say to me. That was a compliment.
Max: Perhaps a psychiatrist over a steakhouse for tomorrow…
ME: Then you’ll never find out more about that library scene.
Max: Six-thirty it is.
ME: Are you… LISTENING TO ME? I am shocked.
Max: Do be quiet.
ME: That’s not what you’ll be saying in 24 hours. *badumtshh*
Max: …Are you flirting with me?
ME: Maybe. Maybe not.
Max: Are you sober?
ME: Yes. Painfully so. I’m just terribly bad at flirting.
Max: Noted.
Max: Avoid the badumtshh thing.
ME: It does have more effect in person when you can do the little air drumstick things.
Max: I’m regretting this already.
ME: As you should, Your Grace. As you should.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MAX
Not A Date
“Let me get this straight,” Fred said, his voice crackling as my phone signal dropped. “You’re helping this woman out with her book research and that involves you, the perma-bachelor, taking her on dates.”
“It’s not a date,” I said while I checked my shirt for creases. I really didn’t want to have to get the iron out. “It’s me taking her to place she can write about.”
“Are you getting paid for this?”
“No.”
“Are you paying for dinner?”
“I would never let a woman pay for dinner. Neither would you.”
“How misogynistic of us,” Fred said dryly. “Max, mate, that’s a date.”
“It’s not a date.”
“Are you anticipating getting laid at the end of it?”
I paused. “There has been a discussion about a physical relationship, yes.”
Sort of.
More on my part than hers, although I suspected it was because we viewed sex differently. Ellie had said she didn’t do casual sex, whereas casual sex was all I was interested in.
Still, I wasn’t going to pressure her into something she didn’t feel comfortable with.
The way I saw it, the sooner she finished her bloody book, the sooner she’d go back to London and I could get on with my life.
“So you’re taking this woman for dinner, you’re paying, and there’s a chance you’re going to have sex at the end of it.”
“When you say it like that, it sounds like a date,” I replied.
“That’s because it is a date,” Fred shot back. “That’s literally exactly how a date goes.”
“A date would imply that I’m interested in a romantic relationship with her. I’m not.” I put my phone on speaker and pulled my t-shirt over my head.
A bang that sounded an awful lot like a door closing came down the line. “Hey, that wouldn’t be the end of the world. I Googled her. She’s hot.”
“Fred.”
“I know, I know, it’d cramp your style.”
I slid the white shirt over my shoulders. “Of all people, I’m surprised you’re the one trying to talk me into a relationship given your last one.”
“Don’t remind me. Charlotte was a witch. Although the alternatives might not be better—Mum’s trying to set me up with a nice, aristocratic girl of her choosing.”
“That sounds like my idea of hell.”
“Anything romantic is your idea of hell. That’s why I’m shocked you’re taking this woman for a date.”
“It’s not a date.”
“Oh, it’s a date,” Fred replied. “You might not think so now, but it’s definitely a date.”
I wasn’t going to win this argument. “If you say so. When are you getting here?”
“Two days. And I’m going to need you to introduce me to Ellie. If you don’t want to date her, I don’t have a problem with it.”
“She has an arsehole cat.”
“After Charlotte, an arsehole cat would be a pleasure to deal with. Cats are better than people, so arsehole cats must be better than arsehole people.”
I shook my head and picked my phone up, taking it off speaker. “Whatever you say. I’m going to take a shower before I get Ellie for our not-a-date.”
“Enjoy your date.”
I hung up without saying goodbye.
My best friend was a dick.
I knew what it sounded like, but it wasn’t a fucking date. As I’d said to him, a date assumed there was a romantic intention, and there wasn’t.
I didn’t do romance.
I had a very good reason for that, and I had yet to meet a woman who made me want to change my mind on that.
That included Ellie.
I crossed the hall to the bathroom and started the shower. As far as Fred taking her out… He was welcome to. I had no attachment or claim to the woman, and if she was interested in him, then that was fine.