Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
But we haven’t made any commitment to each other. We haven’t talked about it, but deep in my gut, I feel like she probably has an expectation for me to keep my dick in my pants.
I quickly do a mental calculation and wonder how I’d react if I found out Stevie had sex with someone else tonight. The burn in my gut tells me I wouldn’t like it one bit.
Moreover, while Harper is sinfully attractive, I absolutely don’t want to fuck her.
Or even converse with her.
That took all of twenty seconds to tell me I’m committed enough to Stevie that I’ll be monogamous, not because of any loyalty garnered, but because she’s the only one I want.
“I’m actually involved with someone,” I say with an apologetic smile.
“So?” She smiles and sips on her drink.
I don’t need to explain myself to her, so I nod. “It was nice meeting you, Harper. I’m going to head up to my room now.”
“I could come with you,” she offers.
“No, you really can’t.”
She’s the one blinking in surprise. “Are you serious? Your girlfriend would never know.”
I could be a douche and tell her I’m just not attracted to her, but I’m too pleased by the label she put on Stevie.
My girlfriend.
My smile brightens, and I incline my head. “You have a nice night.”
“Idiot,” she mutters as I turn my back on her. I set my unfinished beer on the bar and walk out.
I glance over at my buds, but it’s only Bain’s eye I catch. I throw my hand up in farewell, and he lifts his chin.
In my room, I remove my suit and slide into a pair of workout shorts and a T-shirt. I brush my teeth and turn on the TV, muting the sound as I plop down on the bed.
Stevie’s working, and I wonder if she’d answer if I called. We’ve texted a few times today, but it’s been superficial. We’ve both been busy, her running a business and me playing hockey.
But I want more right now.
We had a great meal last night, the second date even better than the first. A delicious meal, captivating conversation, and we ended up back at her house where we nearly broke her bedframe. I was insatiable for Stevie—both for what’s in her head and for her body. She’s so fucking easy to open up to, and I never had conversations like that with Tracy. I’ve talked more about my sister Rachel and about the plane crash with Stevie than I have with anyone, except for the therapist I saw following both tragedies.
I don’t know if Stevie’s the same open book with others that she is with me, but she didn’t hesitate to share her pain about her mother abandoning her. She even admitted the real reason she gave me a shot was because of how hard I worked at a relationship with Tracy before I finally called it quits. She appreciated how much I valued the effort it takes between two people—whether it’s between a man and a woman or, in her case, a mother and her child.
“Fuck it,” I mutter and dial Stevie.
It rings four times, and just as I’m about to hang up, she answers. “Hey, you.”
I can hear music from the jukebox muffled in the background. “You hiding in the storeroom so your dad doesn’t know you’re talking to me?”
She laughs, and it’s husky. One of my favorite things about her. “He’s at home, but I came in here for the quiet. You played great tonight.”
“You watched, huh?”
“In between schlepping beers. I particularly liked that right jab you landed.”
“I’m not quite as tough as you are, but I was pleased with it.”
We share a moment of silence, and there’s nothing awkward about it. I’m not struggling to find words, merely basking in the teasing. That’s sure as shit something I never did with Tracy. I’m realizing she wasn’t laid back enough to have such an easygoing humor about her. While I detest making these comparisons, they are validation I made the right decision in ending it.
Even more, I made the absolute right decision in pursuing Stevie.
“I can’t wait to see you Monday night. We still on?” I ask. At the conclusion of our second date, I asked for a third.
There’s more silence and for a demoralizing moment, I wonder if it’s wrong to wear my heart on my sleeve like this.
And then her voice rings sweet. “You’re pretty much all I’ve been thinking about. Monday can’t come soon enough.”
There.
That’s all I needed to hear. “Same.”
“I have to get back to work,” she says dolefully. “But I was thinking… rather than going out to eat, how about I cook for you?”
“I don’t know,” I drawl hesitantly. “Are you any good?”
Stevie laughs. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
“We can always order pizza as a backup. Any interest in coming to my place? I have a hot tub we could relax in.”