Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Until I saw a prosthetic peeking out of the black denim shorts.
My head jerked up so fast my damn vision blurred for a second.
“Hey!” I said, smiling up at him, never so happy to be cancelled on in my life.
“Hey, babe. Looks like you snagged the last table,” he said, glancing around, making me do the same.
“Seems like it,” I said, waving toward the empty seat across from me.
He didn’t even hesitate to sit down, his gaze sliding to my drink and snack. For a second, I could swear he looked confused by it being there.
Which was weird as hell given that this was a coffee place.
“Is that a whoopie pie?” he asked, brows raised.
“Yeah. They’re new. I’m excited to try it.”
“You’ve never had one?”
“No. I knew someone in school who grew up in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. And she used to say how much she missed the Amish markets and their whoopie pies. She made them sound impossible to not try.”
“Yeah, they’re banging. I think the streusel cakes or apple dumplings might have them beat, but they’re solid if you’re into chocolate.”
“Oh, I am very into chocolate. I’m having a sordid affair in the supply closet at work with this massive bag of peanut butter cups I bought. Pretty sure it was meant to be one of those bags you buy to hand out to trick-or-treaters. Which means I now identify as an entire neighborhood of children.”
That got a little chuckle out of him as he nodded at my drink. “What’d you get?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “I told Jazzy to surprise me.”
I pulled the cup closer, sniffing it, then took a tentative sip.
“What’s the verdict?”
“I think it’s a… ’s’mores latte,” I said, tasting toasted marshmallow, chocolate, and a hint of graham cracker.
“Is it good?”
“No. No, it’s practically orgasmic,” I said, forgetting momentarily that he wasn’t Britney and that I really shouldn’t be talking about Os in front of the man who’d been the leading man in my dreams for the past several days. Dreams that involved many long, rolling Os, I might add. “Do you want to try it?” I asked. “I mean, if you like flavored coffee,” I said.
“Don’t tell the guys at the club, but when I catch up with my sister, she always makes iced caramel lattes. They’re the shit,” he said, reaching for the mug.
My hand didn’t move fast enough, and his strong, surprisingly calloused fingers grazed mine.
Speaking of Os, I swear I nearly had one right then and there.
I couldn’t tell if I was that hard-up for an orgasm, or if this man just had some kind of magic touch.
Either way, I snatched my hand back as he lifted the cup to his lips and had a tentative sip.
“Not bad,” he said, nodding.
A movement behind him had me glancing over toward the counter where Gala, the other owner, nodded toward Callow and proceeded to make a lewd gesture while making faces like she was in the throws of ecstasy.
My eyes must have given me away because Callow turned.
Gala was just quick enough to turn the lewd gesture into her fanning herself like she was overheated.
“Gonna go grab a drink,” Callow said, turning back. Behind him, Gala and Jazzy were laughing at the close call. “Want anything else?”
“I think I’m all set, but thanks,” I said, giving him a smile as he moved to stand and get in the line that had gotten significantly shorter now that all the tables were taken.
With his back to me, I let myself eye-bang Callow for a couple of minutes before forcing my gaze away.
“What’d you get?” I asked as he came back with a coffee and a plate.
“Gala talked me into a slice of cherry pie,” Callow said, making me choke on my coffee, leading to me coughing at making a whole big spectacle of myself.
“You alright?” Callow asked, passing me a napkin.
“Wrong pipe,” I lied, glancing over to find Gala shooting me a wicked grin.
To be fair, I had been celibate for ages, but I hardly believed I was re-virginized. I hoped.
As Callow focused on opening his coffee cup, I shot Gala small eyes that only made her grin wider.
“Black coffee?” I asked, shaking my head. “You’re one of those people?”
“What kind?”
“The ‘people who like milk, sugar, and flavors don’t like actual coffee’ people.”
“Not really. Just used to it. Didn’t always get milk and sugar when I was… on missions,” he said, choosing the words carefully. “So you kind of learn to like it.”
“Like beer,” I said. “I gagged the first few times I had beer as a teen,” I admitted. “I had to force myself to keep drinking it until, eventually, I liked it. For about three weeks before the stick turned blue.”
“And now?”
“I’m too old to pretend I like things I think are gross,” I said. “When they make a peanut butter cup beer, maybe I will try it again.”