Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
It’s obvious it pains her to leave the emotional bomb I just dropped at her feet; however, she does. She chooses to do what’s best for me, something I can’t verbally appreciate enough. “Think you can handle working and renovating at the same time?”
“If I get a job, I’ll just work on the bathroom when I get off at night or dedicate my time to fixing it on my off days. I don’t start anything I can’t finish, sweetheart.”
Her bottom lip tucks itself out of sight, clearly linking the statement to something else.
Something less platonic.
Less innocent.
Something we both shouldn’t be thinking of.
You see what a fucking disaster I am. You know I’m right.
I fight every urge in my body to allow anything other than a friendly statement to leave my mouth. “What do you say we take the samples over to the paint counter and go look around lighting while they mix the shit up?”
Redness finally flees from her face on a nod of agreement.
The instant she’s turned around again, I release a low, heavy breath.
Fuck. Me. Hopefully renovating something will be the healthy distraction I need. The one that keeps me from thinking of an exit strategy to take from this situation and how I’ll have to survive without the little luxuries I’m beginning to become accustomed to. And I’m not just talking about running water or a warm bed. I’m talking about having someone in my life who actually gives a shit about me as a person versus what I can do for them. That’s definitely the shit I’ll miss most when Jaye comes to her senses and asks me to leave. Until then? I’m gonna do my best to relish in it.
Chapter 11
Jaye
I lean back in my barstool seat at No Need to Wine, the wine bar where I met Dmitri two hours ago, on another airy laugh. “Seriously?! You love that book, too?”
“Who doesn’t love Where the Wild Things Are?” The Patrick Dempsey doppelganger playfully pokes back. “Do those people really exist or are you just trying to get me worked up?”
“Oh, they exist.” Pushing my empty wine glass away is done to provide me better space to rest my elbow. “I’m not sure I trust them, but they definitely exist.”
“I wouldn’t trust them, either,” he laughs once more, smile blindingly bright.
What? Why are you judging me? It’s just one drink. One drink that I’ll have you know we have scheduled and rescheduled and rescheduled six times over the past three weeks. First, he had to work and then his doctor friend was in town from Applecourt for a conference and then there was something I didn’t quite understand about a seagull and after that I just kind of assumed it was never going to happen. Which I was totally fine with! I wasn’t exactly looking for a date; however, when he texted this morning while I was getting ready for work, swearing not to cancel, I didn’t even have the chance to decline before my mother was calling me to tell me I had to go. How she knew he had sent the message is still a question I don’t have answered.
Dmitri rests his arm on the bar in a similar position to mine. “It’s gonna sound like a total line, but I really like getting to talk about kids’ books with you.”
The smile he’s offered is playful. “It definitely does.”
“Too bad it’s the truth.” He grins wider. “I kind of collect then. Some I donate to the hospital; however, the others are the ones I cycle through reading when I’m volunteering.”
Surprise cakes over my face. “You volunteer with not just animals but children as well?”
“Weekly, which contributes to the conflicting schedule issues we’ve been having but asking a woman to come down to a local battered family shelter and listen to you read Pirates Don’t Change Diapers before offering free medical exams doesn’t exactly make for the greatest first date.”
Swooning should be stopped yet can’t be.
God, can Mr. Perfect For Me really get any more perfect for me?!
“Maybe for our next date we could hit up a local bookstore?” His fingers that are dangling near mine lightly brush them. “You could recommend me some librarian approved reads to add to my shelves?”
The idea alone should fill me with inexplicable joy.
I mean that’s like…an ideal date right there.
What woman in her right mind wouldn’t want to go to the bookstore?!
It’s just that…I know he’s not the one I want to go to the bookstore with.
He’s not the one whose spine I want to touch.
Pun so intended. And let me just say, touching it in my fantasies at night is so not enough. Oh, don’t get me wrong…It’s enough. Size. Shape. The way it strokes at just the right speed so that I always get off. No, I mean not getting to experience the real thing is torture. Not nearly as much torture as falling for someone that you’re pretty sure has no interest in ever seeing you as anything other than a friend. A non-naked friend at that. A non-naked friend who happens to tell you her shameful secrets and guilty pleasures and the things she’s read about sex in romance novels but hasn’t ever had the courage to try. A non-naked friend who you cook for and tuck in on the couch when she falls asleep during a TV show and who you bring hot chocolate to while discussing the choices for next month’s book club with her. Look, I’m really happy to have Archer in my life. I am! It just sucks a teeny tiny bit that I can’t have him in the one way my heart keeps telling me I should. You can’t make someone want you. Trust me. I spent way too much time trying that shit in the past.