Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Hey, out of curiosity, who the hell is your boss? It blows my mind he lets you drive his McLaren GT.”
With a smug smile, I replied, “Oh, I’m the executive assistant for the president and CEO of the Boston Red Sox.”
Wes started laughing. “Right. Seriously, Clare, who do you work for.”
“Seriously, Wes, the Boston Red Sox.”
His smile faded.
“Wow, if I only knew that by telling you where I worked you’d finally stop talking. If you could please shut the door now.”
A stunned Wes took a step back, then shut the door. Feeling like a million bucks again, I pulled out into traffic while singing Kelly Clarkson’s song, “Stronger” with a huge smile on my face.
• • •
When the doorbell rang, I drew in a quick breath and let it out. “This is going to be fun! Don’t think about dickhead, or the two kisses that left you breathless.”
I made my way to the door and opened it to see Alex standing there with a bouquet of flowers.
“Hi!” I said as I motioned for him to come in.
“These are for you,” he said, handing them to me.
I buried my face in the flowers and inhaled. “They smell lovely. Let me put them in a vase.”
Alex slipped his hands into the pockets of his black dress pants. He had on a black sweater with a white collared shirt underneath it. No jacket at all. His dark blond hair was styled perfectly, and he smelled like he put just a bit too much cologne on.
I wrinkled my nose, then rubbed it to keep from sneezing.
Opening the cabinet and finding my one and only vase, I pulled it out and filled it with water. “Make yourself at home while I take care of these.”
“Will do,” he replied, peeking into the bathroom, then walking over to the living room. “That is some view of Fenway Park.”
“Thanks!” I replied, carrying the vase of flowers over to the kitchen table. “I like it.”
“Are you, um, a big baseball fan?”
I laughed and set the flowers in the middle of the table. Anyone who lived in Boston was a Sox fan. “I sure am. From the time my father first brought me to a game when I was five.”
He nodded and looked back out the window. “I don’t care for baseball.”
I stared at him, shook my head, then stared at him some more. “You don’t like the Boston Red Sox?”
“I don’t like baseball at all. Or football. Really, any sports. Give me a play or opera any day over sports.”
Forcing a smile, I excused myself by saying that I needed to use the bathroom before we left. Once I was in the bathroom, I let my mouth drop open.
“Holy shit,” I softly whispered. “He doesn’t like the Sox?”
I had grabbed my phone on the way into the bathroom while Alex continued to glare at the stadium across the street. I pulled up Rory’s name.
Me: HOW COULD YOU?!
It didn’t take her long to text back.
Rory: How could I what?!!?
Me: Set me up with a guy who doesn’t like the RED SOX.
The three dots started. Stopped. Started again.
I paced back and forth in my small bathroom.
Rory: I had NO IDEA! I’m so sorry! But he is a really great guy. You can get past that.
Glaring at my phone, I huffed.
Me: He doesn’t like ANY SPORTS. You do remember I have season tickets to the Sox and the Patriots. While he wants to go to the opera, I want to go eat hotdogs and popcorn and drink beer!
Rory: It is healthy to have things in common and to have your own interests, you know.
She was right about that. I could get past this. It was okay.
Me: You’re right.
With one more look in the mirror, and a quick adjustment of my hair, I had it half pulled back, half down, I turned and opened the door.
“Oh good, you’re ready. We need to leave if you want to make our dinner reservations.”
“I’m dressed, okay?”
I had on dress pants and a cashmere sweater in baby blue.
He grinned. “You look beautiful and perfect, Clare.”
My cheeks heated as I reached for my coat on the hanger. I waited for Alex to take it and help me put it on, but he simply stood there.
I guess chivalry is dead except in romance movies and books.
As we rode down in the elevator, I looked over at him. “So, where are we going for dinner?”
“We’re going to The Capital Grille.”
My brows shot up. That was one of the most expensive restaurants in Boston.
“Oh, that sounds lovely.”
“Have you ever been?”
“No,” I said with a shake of my head. “I’ve heard it is amazing.”
“It is,” he replied when the elevator doors opened. I followed him out of the building and saw a black car waiting. “This is us.”
My eyes widened as I realized Alex had a driver. Was this his norm or was it to try and impress me?