Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Yeah?” I respond with a grin. “I was actually a little afraid you’d be disappointed.”
“Disappointed? Are you joking?” she exclaims, swinging a dramatic hand over her outfit. “I got to wear jeans and flats, and I’m currently drinking a milkshake without one of my kids saying ‘Mom’ every five seconds in my ear. This is date heaven, in my opinion.”
I could’ve easily taken her to a fancy restaurant for our first real date night—and I almost did—but the more I thought about Sammy and the busy life she leads, my gut instinct told me she needed something laid-back.
“Have you ever been here before?” I ask.
She shakes her head, pursing her lips around the mouthful of cold ice cream she’s just sucked in.
“No. But after tasting their milkshakes, I’m an instant fan,” she remarks, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “Anytime you want to bring me here, Noah, just say the word.”
Waverly Diner has been a staple on the West Side for as long as I can remember. My dad used to bring Kara and me here every weekend when we were kids, and the vinyl-padded booths, counter seating, milkshakes to die for, and a menu that covers everything from Belgian waffles to triple-decker sandwiches to cheeseburgers hasn’t changed a bit.
Grace, our server, steps up to our booth, holding two plates filled with cheeseburgers and fries in her hands, and sets our food down in front of us. “How’s everything looking?”
“This cheeseburger is bigger than my head…” Sammy pauses, and a big ole grin covers her pretty mouth. “Which means everything looks perfect.”
The server laughs, and I nod in agreement. “I think we’re all set. Thank you.”
Grace leaves us to the food, and Sammy takes a bite of her cheeseburger. A giant bite.
Her cheeks puff out like a squirrel in the midst of hoarding nuts, and her eyes roll back in her head like she’s having an orgasm—and at this point, I have scientific evidence that the faces are a spot-on match.
I decide not to tell her about it—at least, not yet. I’m pretty sure the embarrassment would be too potent for me to fix in the middle of Waverly Diner. But later tonight? When I can prove just how sexy it is? All bets are off.
As she chews, an adorable smile lifts the corners of her lips to just below the corners of her aqua-green eyes. “I still stand by my words, Noah. Anytime you want to bring me here to eat, I’m your girl.”
“You’re my girl?” I question. “Does that phrase apply to diner-milkshake-cheeseburger situations only? Or could it apply to other situations too?”
“Do you want it to apply to other situations?”
“If it’s up to me, Sammy, it would apply to all situations.”
“All situations?” she questions, but her lips showcase amusement. “That’s quite a blanket statement there, Noah.”
“It is.” I nod and reach out to place my hand over hers. “And I stand behind it fully.”
“So, like, when I’m a total freaking mess with puking kids, and you have to get out of bed to bring us soup in the middle of the night?”
“You’re my girl.”
She narrows her eyes, but her lips are still crested into a smile. “And when you come over to hang out, but I’m too exhausted to do anything but sleep?”
“You’re my girl.”
“And when I decide to rob a bank and take a hostage and bury a body in Central Park?”
“You’re my girl. Though, I would maybe suggest you take money from me instead of the bank, and that hostages are too much work since we’ve already got two little ones in tow, and I would pray that the body is that of one Gavin Evans. But even if I couldn’t convince you…you’re my girl.”
“You seem crazy confident about this whole me-being-your-girl thing.”
“Because I am.”
“Want to know a secret?”
“Definitely.”
“I feel pretty confident about you being my guy too.”
“Is that right?”
“Shocking, I know,” she says with a giggle. “But Sammy Baker finally knows exactly what she wants.”
“Shit, Sam.”
She kneels on her booth seat and leans over the table toward me. “Come here,” she whispers.
Once we’re nearly nose-to-nose, Sammy presses her lips to mine. The kiss is soft and sweet and brief, but it’s still a million layers deeper than I’ve ever had with any other woman in my entire life.
With my fingers beneath her chin, I lock my eyes with hers and whisper the words I’ve long since known but, as of right now, need to say. “I love you.”
Her eyes search my steady gaze, excitement and affection and tears brewing in a storm of blue-green.
“I love you, Sammy,” I tell her explicitly. “I’ve been in love with you for a while now.”
She pauses for the longest moment, so much so that the breath in my chest goes stale from holding it in. But then, finally, the sweet relief of reciprocation frees me from my temporary hell. “Yeah, actually, I know you do. And more than that, I love you too.”