Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
“Would you like me to meet with Becca to go over anything we’ve discussed?”
I shook my head. “No, that’s not necessary.”
“Okay. Well…next step, I’d like a tour of your shop to take photos and get a feel for your products. How about tomorrow?”
“Sorry. I’m in the kitchen all morning and I’m not sure if Joanne will be in. I may have to work the register again, which I really fucking hope doesn’t happen.”
Theo chuckled. “How about later in the day?”
“That won’t work either. We close at three and I need to go to Oxford.”
“Oh. Maybe Tuesday?”
I shook my head, my brow furrowed as if in deep thought. “What about now?”
“Now?”
“Sure. It’s midafternoon. There’s plenty of daylight left, and the trains will be running for hours.”
I followed the lazy glide of his tongue across his bottom lip as he considered my suggestion.
Holy fuck. That might be a bad idea.
“That’s a great idea. Let’s go.”
5
Theo
Help! I was in lust with this man!
I sat beside Scott, clandestinely studying his handsome profile as the train chugged along the tracks. His longish beard suited him. He must have grown it out over the past week. I wanted to ask, but that seemed a tad familiar and it was painfully obvious that he preferred to keep a polite businesslike distance between us.
My self-control was remarkable if I did say so myself. I wasn’t sure how I’d managed to hold a two-hour conversation without a single reference to our brief tryst. I’d even finagled a way to spend more time with him, hoping that once I worked up the nerve to mention the um…mutual hand attention and my willingness to partake again, we’d have the perfect excuse to make it happen. But I suspected he didn’t feel the same way.
He was definitely attracted to me. I spied him checking me out as if I were the last cookie at a buffet table. Or that second slice of birthday cake he stoically refused but secretly wanted. Something held him back.
I wondered if it was Becca. A personal friend with professional interests was a tricky quantity. I sensed there was more to the story, but I wasn’t brave enough to bring up our own liaison let alone poke around in his private life.
But we couldn’t ignore it, could we?
I had two choices—pretend it never happened and that I hadn’t jerked off daily to the memory of his hands on me or…buck up and confront him.
What to do? What to do?
I slathered balm over my lips as I scanned our nearest neighbors. Other than an exhausted-looking couple with two young kids seated a few rows away, we had the car to ourselves. We could have stretched out, but neither of us liked sitting backward, so we sat next to each other instead—thigh to thigh. And let me say, I was in worse shape than I’d thought if the brush of his leg gave me a bad case of butterflies.
Conversation had flowed so easily at lunch, but I could barely hold my end now. I soaked in the rolling green countryside beyond the rain-streaked windows of the westbound train, nodding occasionally at whatever Scott was talking about. Transportation, maybe?
I could have happily listened to him recite the train schedule to every destination possible. His deep timbre, the rumble of the engine, and the press of his body were a hypnotic combination. I didn’t want the ride to end.
But the train ride would come to an end, and the elephant in the room would follow us to the bakery and possibly hang around for an entire month. Ugh. I couldn’t live like that.
“…go by rail ’cause traffic can be a nightmare during—”
“We should talk about our restroom rendezvous,” I blurted.
Scott went still, then slowly met my gaze. “Yeah, you’re right. Um…look, I don’t—”
Oh, no. Oh, no.
Screech, halt, reverse!
I clasped his wrist, twisting on my seat to face him before he could finish that regret-tinged sentence.
“Me either! I mean…these things happen, right? Public sex is all the rage. Everybody who’s anybody has a naughty restroom story to share with friends over mimosa-infused brunches. I enjoyed it. I certainly did. It was fantastic and—” I paused when I noticed Scott’s wary expression had morphed into a wide grin. “What’s so funny?”
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Nothing at all. You’re just kind of cute.”
I bristled at the compliment. No one over twenty-two aspired to be cute. But at least he hadn’t switched seats or launched into an “It’s Not You, It’s Me” speech. Yet.
“Thanks. I think.”
Scott puffed his cheeks out and released a slow stream of air. “You know, that was a first for me.”
“You said you were a mile-high guy, so technically, you’re the seasoned expert,” I huffed.
“Shh.” He snort-laughed, craning his neck around the near-empty car for comedic effect. “That was ages ago, and I told you I was drunk at the time. I don’t know what the hell got into me last week. I’m not sorry it happened by any means, but I’m not sure where that leaves us, ’cause…it wouldn’t be wise to do that again.”