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)
“Have you ever been married?” I asked, not sure how old he was exactly, but I would put him about eight or ten years older than me. It was possible he’d been married and divorced once or twice by now.
“No. I was too busy with work. I was never really anywhere for long enough to meet anyone for longer than a day or two.”
The conversation slipped to less personal things then. Growing up in this area. How I’d been so hilariously ignorant to how much criminal activity went on in Navesink Bank.
Apparently, the bar I’d been to a few times to celebrate things with Britney and Sam was owned by a family of loansharks, of all things.
And Famigilia—the fancy Italian restaurant I took Daphne to for her sixteenth birthday—was owned by the mob.
By the time our food and coffee was gone, the line was practically out the door again with teens looking for a place to kill a few hours.
“I should probably get going,” I said, checking my phone, frustrated by the hour and the fact that I didn’t have full certainty that Daphne would stay in like she claimed.
“Yeah, gettin’ late,” Callow agreed, reaching for my plate and my coffee cup to bring to the bins as I gathered my things and got to my feet.
The table was almost instantly filled up as I walked with Callow to the door.
“I’m this way,” I said, waving down the street.
“I’ll walk you,” he said, making my belly wobble deliciously.
The last time I had a man walk me to my car was at the hotel when I’d needed to work an overnight and some guys were lurking around being creepy, making me ask the custodian to walk with me.
This was a lot nicer, I had to admit.
“Don’t you love the fall?” I asked as leaves blew across the sidewalk in front of us. “Makes me want to make apple cider donuts.”
“You bake?” he asked.
“Kind of goes with the mom territory,” I said, shrugging. “I had to learn to make Christmas cookies. I can’t take a lot of credit for the apple cider donuts, though. I buy a mix I just have to add cider to, roll out, cut, and fry.”
“Any chance you’d save me a few when you do?” he asked, making me want to go home and immediately place an order for more of the mix.
“I think I could manage that,” I said, wondering if my tone sounded as flirty to him as it did to me as I turned with my back to my car to give him a little smile.
It’d been so long since I’d even attempted to flirt that I honestly could have been laying it on way too thick or comically thin for all I knew.
“Yeah?” he asked, something smooth and sexy in his dark eyes as he leaned closer.
Butterflies took flight through my belly as my heartbeat tripped over itself.
Because he was definitely flirting back.
“You know,” he said, reaching up to brush my hair behind my ear, making a shiver slide down my spine, “I’m really glad you invited me here tonight,” he said.
I realized too late that he was leaning closer, that his gaze was on my lips.
Because automatically, my stupid mouth spoke what was on my mind.
“Wait… what?”
That was all it took for Callow to straighten again. “Hm?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I’m glad you invited me here,” he said, brows furrowing.
“But… I didn’t.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I didn’t invite you here. I was supposed to be meeting Britney, but she canceled on me. This is our weekly date thing,” I said, waving back toward She’s Bean Around.
“Babe, you texted me,” he said, looking baffled.
“No, I didn’t,” I said, shaking my head.
I mean, I’d thought about it no fewer than a thousand times. But I’d never had the balls to do it.
Callow reached into his pocket, bringing out his phone, finding what he was looking for, then turning the screen toward me.
And there it was.
A text from my phone.
Asking him to meet me.
For a stomach-clenching moment, I worried I might have texted him when I’d woken up from one of my setting-the-sheets-on-fire dreams when I hadn’t been awake enough to remember what I’d done.
But I had a feeling if I’d texted him then that it would have been a lot less tame than asking him on a coffee date.
Confused, I dug my own phone out of my purse, going to my messages, finding Callow, and seeing no message inviting him anywhere.
“See?” I said, turning the phone to him, watching as his frown intensified.
“The fuck?”
As he looked between our screens, I suddenly knew exactly what happened.
My damn daughter happened.
The only other person in the world who knew the passcode to get into my phone. Who could have easily swiped it off of the nightstand when I was sleeping and texted Callow.