Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Naturally, the elevator is slower than molasses. When it finally arrives, I squeeze on. Bonus to being last to fit in is that I’m first off as soon as the doors open in the lobby. 3:27. Dammit. I’m wearing the wrong shoes for a jog today.
I rush past the guards toward the street and cross to the next block.
Tugging the door open, I hear, “Unless you want a pimento hoagie with jalapeños and extra pickles, we’ve already put everything away. The pimento is on the house, though.” The guy behind the counter drops the sandwich on the glass display. It lands like a brick.
I rub my stomach as if it will ease the hunger pangs. Since I’m not interested in spending the rest of the day with heartburn or in the bathroom, I reply, “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“You can have my salad.” I felt it the moment I walked in, but thought it was hunger. It is. Just of a different kind.
The voice . . .
The soothing dulcet tone.
Energy sparking in the air.
I gave in to a whim once. I won’t fall for him twice.
4
Olivia
I look back over my shoulder to find Noah sitting at a table by the window. “I didn’t realize anyone else was in here.” I turn, feeling trapped between him, the door, and a quick getaway.
“You didn’t find me so easy to ignore before.” There’s no offense written in his expression, though that surprises me since all he does is offend me personally. But then he cocks a brow, and that just sends my blood pressure through the roof.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I reply, “Everything doesn’t have to be an innuendo back to that night in the Hamptons.”
He chuckles to himself, his gaze locked on me like I might escape. It’s tempting. “When I said before, I meant yesterday at work.” He rests his arms on the table, leaning forward. “Glad to know you remember more than you tried to forget. So do I.”
“Pfft.” I try to play it off, but my annoyance with him has my eyes rolling again. “Is this what we’re going to do every time we see each other?”
“Travel down memory lane?” He gives me a wink.
Ugh. “Talk about a night I can’t imagine you remember much more than I do. Was it whiskey or scotch you were drinking that night?”
“Whiskey.” He sits back again, amusement bright in his eyes as he stares into mine. It’s a look that got him laid the night we met. That bonfire flickering in his eyes set my soul on fire for a few hours. I won’t tell him that, but I look away from him now. I’d hate to fall prey once again.
He pushes a plastic bowl toward me. “It’s not much, but it’s yours if you’re hungry.”
“That’s okay. Thanks.” I walk to the door, and my stomach, being the traitor it is, growls loud enough that the tourists on Liberty Island could probably hear. When I grab the handle, the bell chimes above my head.
“It’s okay to break bread with the enemy,” he says to my back.
I glance at the salad, then at him again. “That’s legit not a rule of war. Breaking bread brings people together.”
“It’s a salad, Liv. Take it or leave it, but I’m not waving a white flag for you.”
“Olivia,” I correct with an edge to my tone. The sharpness comes easily these days. I’ve tried to temper it, but after the hellscape I’ve been navigating over the past few months, it’s felt more permanent as of late.
“It’s a salad, Olivia, not a surrender on your part either.” He pushes it a few inches closer to me.
Is this the battle I want to fight? No.
I let the door close and move to the table. Standing, he signals to the chair across from him. “Would you like to join me?”
“No, I wouldn’t like that,” I reply softer. The words fall off my dull-edged tongue because I’m less sure of myself. I should take the opportunity to get to know him, but I can’t. Not yet. I’m still trying to figure out how I might tell this man about Maxwell, so having a meal with him feels like it’s too soon without a plan. I still take the salad since he’s offering it, and I’m starving. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I can’t help but notice how handsome and relaxed he is in the diffused light from the window, the world passing by outside giving him a little privacy in the middle of the busy workday. “Seems you’re settling right into the office and the neighborhood.”
“It sounds like there’s a question in there.” He shifts, glancing at the deli guys busy cleaning the floors. “The office, yes. I was hungry, so I took a walk and found this place. It’s a good pastrami, Antonio,” he calls out.