Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Gulp. “Did he specifically ask for me?”
“Yes.” And she’s gone.
Oh crap. Well, at least I’m not covered in flour and other ingredients now, not like the last time.
“I’ll be back.” I say to Valentine and hastily hang my apron on the back of the door with the others.
Oh god. There he is. “Hi.” I go for chirpy, but it sounds awkward and a little bit pained. “Eric, right?”
“Guinevere, right?” He gives me a wink and leans over the counter slightly. His crooked smile is very handsome, very charming. I bet the ladies love him.
Elle sighs beside me and my thoughts are confirmed. Yep. The ladies love him.
“I’m back for that something special.” He states mischievously, his eyes twinkling. How old is he anyway? He can’t be older than twenty six.
“Sure.” I chew on my lip, staring directly into his eyes, trying to implore him to order baked goods only. Why do I get the feeling that I’m also on that menu? “What is it you…” Don’t say fancy! “Fancy?” God damn my stupid mouth!
His smile widens, ugh, those dimples… need I say more? “Well, seeing as somebody could have choked to death and died,” my mouth drops open in horror at his words, “or broken a tooth, I figure you owe me big. Real big. Too big.”
Oh crap. “That’s a lot of ‘ifs’.”
“It is.” His hazel eyes flick to my hand. “Where’s your ring?”
“At home.” I rub my naked finger absentmindedly, willing the conversation to move on.
“With your… fiancé?”
My eyes widen. What do I say? “I’m… umm… not engaged.”
Now he looks perplexed. “Oh. Family heirloom?”
“Something like that.” Nervously tucking my hair behind my ears, I glance around at the empty tables, praying for something really funny to happen to distract him so I can scuttle away. Or something really bad. Maybe I can make somebody start a fight.
“So, your ring is at home with…”
I frown. “Why do you want to know who I live with?”
He lets out a laugh. “Actually I was trying to find out if you’re single.”
“She is!” Elle shouts from the kitchen. I just got very lightheaded.
“Brilliant.” Eric grins and laces his fingers together on the counter before him. “So, I’ll pick you up at eight?”
“I…”
“Eight it is.” He responds. I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off. “Or seven, is seven better for you?”
“No…”
“She finishes at six!” Elle shouts and I make a mental note to kick her bony arse later.
“You have customers Elle!” I shout back through gritted teeth and turn back to Eric. “I can’t, I have to…” Where’s he gone? What the hell? I see him climbing into a silver car that’s parked outside the store window.
“He ran when you turned.” Elle explains unnecessarily when I stare dumbfounded at the doorway.
Grumbling profanities to myself, I stomp into the kitchen, my face flamed red and my irritation in the danger zone.
“You’ll thank me later.” Elle calls, not caring that the three customers who were waiting to be served no doubt know that I’m going on a date later.
Oh my god! I’m going on a date later!
“Are you okay?” Valentine asks, clearly sensing my mood.
No I’m not. “Fine.”
For somebody who doesn’t want to go on a date, I certainly took extra care keeping myself ingredient free. It’s now five fifty three and I’m as nervous as Santa in a whorehouse.
Stop fidgeting. Stop shaking. Stop… just stop everything.
I can handle that.
The bell above the door chimes and in walks Eric, looking gorgeous in dark blue jeans and a white shirt. “Hi.” He looks slightly nervous, almost as nervous as me. I kind of feel bad for the guy now. “Are you ready?”
“You insisted on picking me up from work.” I look down at my almost ingredient free clothing. “So nope, I’m not ready.”
Ducking under the counter, I gulp when he steps towards me and offers his hand. I don’t know why but I take it and allow him to pull me closer. He bends forward and plants his soft lips against my cheek, inhaling at the same time. “You smell like cookies.”
“You sniffed me?” I remark, not sure whether to freak out or swoon.
“You work in a bakery. My first though was ‘I bet she smells just like one’.”
Blink. “What an odd first thought to have.” Or is it? I’m uncertain how the male mind works.
He laughs silently and pulls me out of the store. “So, my full name is Eric Smith. I’ll be your date for the evening.”
Huh, he doesn’t open my car door for me. I’m not sure if I like that. Or maybe I’m used to a custom that only exists in the Weston males. That’s okay though, because I’m not getting in the car or going on a date.
“Problem?” He asks, still smiling.
I nod and decide to blurt it out. “I have to get home to my son.”