Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
“How was your flight?” I asked politely.
He held the door open for me. “Too long and uneventful.”
Uneventful was generally a good thing in my book where flights were concerned.
Mr. Abrams had the same driver as the other day, and he greeted me with a courteous nod and opened the door for me.
He deserved cookies, and I’d made plenty.
“I have Christmas cookies for you later,” I told him and got in. Same spot as last time. I didn’t wanna assume I’d suddenly be sitting next to Wyatt, although I was hoping for a heavy make-out session.
He took his seat across from me and had mirth dancing in his eyes.
“Did I say something funny?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Something sweet.”
Because of the cookies? I grinned. “There’s a whole gift basket waiting on your desk.”
He smiled, because he did that nowadays, and wouldn’t stop observing me. It was kind of unnerving. I didn’t know how to act or move forward. My body was already strung with anticipation to follow his lead—and I wasn’t sure that was awesome. We hadn’t really discussed anything. Were we going to date? Was this lunch a date?
“Where are we going?” I asked. “You’re not saying anything. It’s weird.”
That made him chuckle, and he folded one leg over the other and clasped his hands in his lap. “I’m merely enjoying my view. It was…frustrating not to see you yesterday.”
Just like that, the unnerving feeling evaporated.
“You’ve caused quite the stir in my head,” he said.
“Okay, but what about in your pants?”
He coughed around a laugh and grinned out the window. “There too.”
Hot. Now I couldn’t stop picturing him hard. I wanted to see him nekkid.
“I saw the gift basket,” he added. “I dropped off my luggage in my office before I came down to get you.” He faced me again, affection simmering in his expression. “It may be the sweetest gift I’ve ever received, figuratively and literally speaking. I…I hope you’ll help me eat it all.”
If my smile was half as goofy as I suddenly felt, I was in trouble. Talk about full-blown crush in effect already.
I detected a hint of tentativeness in him, however.
That was nuts.
“I’d love to.” I unzipped my jacket because it wasn’t that chilly. “The cupcakes are my favorite after snickerdoodles.”
“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” He smirked a little. “You eat the frosting first, don’t you?”
“How else do you eat a cupcake?”
He rumbled a chuckle. “As long as there’s room for food. Dessert comes afterward.”
The way he said it made it sound like he was testing me for my response. Because it went without saying that I disagreed with him. Cupcakes were a perfectly fine dinner alternative. And for dessert, you could have ice cream, maybe.
“If you say so.” I scrunched my nose.
His eyes held a tone of severity that drew me in. “I do.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek and stared at him. He was testing me. Or feeling me out.
This stuff was gonna get me horny before we even arrived at the lunch place.
Mr. Abrams took me to a restaurant owned by a friend of his, a man who just happened to be a celebrity chef, and I was immediately excited when I saw the interior and got a sense of what kind of place it was. It was called MAT, and it was all Southern cookin’ in a cozy yet exclusive setting. Okay, I didn’t care about the exclusive part, but the hot chicken and mac and cheese, on the other hand!
We were seated in an intimate, circular booth, and it didn’t escape my notice that he chose to sit beside me rather than across from me. Our knees nearly touched, and I paid attention to such things. I mean, I couldn’t not. I was running on a crush here.
I didn’t open my menu until he opened his, and even then, I couldn’t help but glance over to see what he was doing. More than ever, I needed to read him, to understand his reactions, to anticipate his needs and next move.
“There he is.” Mr. Abrams’s eyes sparked with friendly recognition as a handsome gentleman walked over, and he didn’t need a chef’s outfit to let anyone know it was his restaurant. Holy crap, August King was famous. Cam must’ve sent me dozens of his recipes. “It must be my lucky day to catch you on an LA trip. It’s been too long, my friend.” He rose to greet Mr. King, and the two hugged.
“You know you’re always welcome to visit us in Nashville,” Mr. King replied. “It’s mighty good to see you, Wyatt.”
Would ya look at that, Mr. Abrams actually had friends. Funnily enough, they reminded me of each other. Kind grins—now that I knew Mr. Abrams was capable of smiling—plenty of silver in their hair, similar builds. They looked to be similar in age too.