Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“You say that like you know from experience.”
“My mom’s fiancé isn’t her first boyfriend since my dad died.” She shrugs. “Mom likes living a life of leisure and travel, and over the years, she’s found man after man to give that to her. Not to say she didn’t care about them, but until Richard, I don’t think she was ever in love. She just appreciated the fact that those men could take care of her. And for her, that’s what’s most important.” She picks up another mozzarella stick.
“When I was a teenager, I would get so mad at her, and we would fight all the time about it. I knew the men she was with before Richard weren’t treating her right, and I couldn’t understand why she kept seeking out the same kind of men over and over again.” Her eyes lock on mine. “Nothing changed except our relationship. She always felt like I was judging her when I wasn’t. I just wanted better for her, even if it was a better kind of man.”
“But you like her fiancé now?”
“He treats her like a princess and worships the ground she walks on. That’s really all that matters to me.”
“Do you and he get along?”
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “But I honestly can’t say I know him well, which is weird since I lived in his house for almost six months after he proposed to my mom.”
“How is that possible?”
“He travels all the time for work and was gone more than he was around.”
“That has to be difficult on your mom.”
“She goes with him.” She takes another mozzarella stick, and I watch her eat it, thinking even the way she eats is cute. “So, what about your parents?”
“My mom works for the FBI,” I say.
“Wait, what?” She laughs. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, but she’s not an agent. She works in the office, which isn’t as exciting.”
“Maybe, but you still get to say your mom works for the FBI.” She laughs again.
“True.” I grin and then lean back when the waitress brings over our food.
“What about your dad?” She grabs the ketchup.
“He was a car salesman but retired a few years ago. Now, he spends his days fishing.”
“I love fishing,” she says softly, the look in her eyes matching the tone of her voice.
“Really?” I raise a brow.
“Three of my favorite things are fishing, scary movies, and baking cookies.”
Chapter 5
Reese
Taking my eyes off the sandwich I just picked up, I look across the table at Brodie, who’s suddenly gone quiet, and try to figure out why he seems… Annoyed?
“What?”
“Are you being serious right now?”
“That I like fishing?” I dunk my sandwich into the bowl of au jus. “Yeah, why? Do you think that’s weird?”
“And the other things?”
“Scary movies and baking?” I frown at him. Why does he keep looking at me like that?
“Do you know who I am?”
“Should I?” I let my eyes wander over his face. Did I actually recognize him this afternoon like I thought I had? Is he some famous actor or something? “Are you famous?”
“I play pro hockey.”
“You play hockey? For like a job?”
He jerks up his chin.
“I don’t watch hockey,” I say.
“So, you never read the article about me that came out two months ago in LifeNStylez, where I said that my three favorite things are fishing, scary movies, and baking?”
“I’ve never even heard of that magazine.” I shake my head, trying to wrap my mind around the last thing he said. “You like baking?”
“I’m being serious right now, Reese. I’m trying to figure out if this is all just some strange coincidence or if...”
It clicks. Right then, in that moment, it clicks. The weird look on his face, the way he seems freaked, maybe even a little mad.
“Oh, my God. You think I’m some weird stalker fan,” I breathe in disbelief.
“I didn’—”
“How would I even go about that?” I ask with zero humor, placing my sandwich on the plate and dusting off my hands.
“I don’t know.” He scrubs his fingers through his hair.
“Right.” I pick up my bag from beside me, ready to bolt. “Before I leave, I would just like to point out that I didn’t sit by you at the pool. You sat by me. I didn’t try to talk to you; you talked to me. And I didn’t ask you to dinner; you asked me. So, unless I enthralled you with my beauty and wit and have some kind of magical power that manipulated you into doing all those things, I don’t see how you’d think that I set this whole situation up.” I start to stand but stop when he gets there before me and blocks my path.
“You’re right,” he says quietly, looking down at me. “I’m sorry, it’s just…”
“Let me guess, women are constantly throwing themselves in your path or trying to find ways to get your attention.”