Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
God, how I want to hold her hand and touch her in other places. Touch her everywhere. But she lets go to pick up her fork again, and I return my tingling hand to my side.
“I just have one question,” she says.
“Shoot,” I tell her.
“Is this dinner included in your hours?”
I laugh. “No. I’ll start work tomorrow. That’s a promise. I won’t bill you for this.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” she says. “So, tomorrow. What time do you want me?”
An answer hovers on the tip of my tongue. Any time, all the time, all night long. But I curb it in favor of remaining more professional, at least for now.
“How about ten?” I ask. “What’s your father’s daily schedule like normally?”
“He goes to work at eight thirty,” she says. “His lunch break is usually at twelve, and he leaves work at five thirty. He doesn’t come home for hours, sometimes, though. I know he must be going somewhere to gamble.”
I tilt my head at her. “In all of this, you haven’t mentioned your mother.”
Jenna’s eyes hit the table. “She passed away when I was five.”
Oh, Hunter, you idiot. You couldn’t have used your detective skills to see that one coming? “I’m sorry,” I say, with genuine feeling. “I lost both of my parents, but I was a lot older. I can’t imagine how it would have felt at that age.”
I was older than she is now when they both passed away, actually, but she doesn’t need to know that detail just now. I don’t want to remind her of our age gap.
“It’s okay,” Jenna shrugs, though the movement is lopsided and I don’t know how much I believe it. “I barely remember her.”
“Well, now I understand why it’s so important to you to get your father back on the right path,” I say. “He’s all you have.”
She nods. “People have told me to just cut him off – to just leave. I’m at college now, I’m supporting myself with part-time work, and I don’t need to go back to him. But he’s my father.”
“I understand.” I take the last bite of my pasta with a sigh, feeling as I always do at the end of a meal here, like something truly wonderful has just finished and can never quite be recaptured. Even if I eat here again, which I know I will, it won’t be that same exact dish of perfection, but another one. “You’re living on campus now?”
“I am,” she nods. “I got a partial scholarship which includes accommodation.”
“It’s a good distance from here,” I say.
“I got the train,” she says with a light shrug. “I got a little lost.”
I nod thoughtfully. There’s one way to fix that. “I’ll settle the bill, and then drive you home,” I say. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to be walking around an unfamiliar neighborhood on your own in the dark.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, but I can see that she doesn’t really want to argue with me. She looks relieved.
I nod, standing up. Her bowl is empty, too. “Give me a minute, and we’ll go.”
And honestly, I need a minute – because if I drive her home, she’s going to be sitting so close to me, I’m going to need to exercise all the restraint I have to keep my hands – and mouth – to myself.
CHAPTER NINE
Jenna
I shiver a little as we exit the restaurant, feeling the chill of the evening air hit me despite my coat.
“Are you cold?” Hunter asks in some surprise.
I shrug, trying to feign more strength than I have. “I’m fine.”
“You look cold,” he says, pulling me against him and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. He uses it to rub up and down and impart some warmth, and I suddenly realize the high value there is in being cold after all.
“I wasn’t expecting the temperature to drop so low after dark,” I say, which isn’t exactly telling him I’m cold but certainly gives the impression I am. I don’t want to lie, after all. And I am a little chilly. Just not chilly enough to justify him putting his arm around me like this.
“It catches the best of us,” he says kindly and carries on walking with his arm around my shoulders, just like it’s perfectly natural.
I don’t ever want him to let go.
The walk back to his home slash office is disappointingly short. I’m sure I remember it as being longer on the way to the restaurant, but all too soon, we’re back at his place. The car parked in the driveway has our names on it.
“Here we are,” he says, and I don’t know if it’s wishful thinking, but I swear his arm lingers around my shoulders for just a second longer than it needs to, as if he’s reluctant to let go, too. “Get in.”