Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Which put me—both of us—in a damnable situation.
“A glass of champagne,” Izzy ordered with a grin.
“Champagne?” the bartender asked, leaning in like she’d misheard.
“Yep,” Izzy replied, reaching into her purse and handing her driver’s license to the bartender. “It’s my birthday.”
“So it is. Happy birthday.” The bartender smiled and handed back Izzy’s ID. “And for you?” she asked, turning toward me and leaning in even though I hadn’t spoken.
“Yuengling, please,” I ordered, reaching for my wallet. “And we’ll take the bottle of champagne if you don’t serve by the glass.”
“I’ve got you,” the brunette said, getting to work.
“So what was your favorite part of today?” Izzy asked. “When I dragged you to my favorite pizza place? My favorite bakery for my favorite cupcakes? Or when I hauled you through campus?”
“Everything about seeing you,” I answered honestly. The ability to speak my mind around her was my favorite part of our . . . whatever this was. There was no need to play games, to play coy or even flirt. I could be exactly who I was and say exactly what I was thinking when it came to Izzy.
Today had been everything I’d traveled from Savannah to give her, and I had to give Serena major credit for making it happen. The second I’d messaged her from the Instagram account Izzy had insisted I set up, telling her I wanted to surprise her sister, Serena had happily flipped her lid. She’d also slipped in the fact that their parents had bailed on Izzy as usual, and that she wasn’t seeing anyone, into the brief conversation.
Not going to lie, I’d been . . . relieved—about the boyfriend situation, not her parents. Not that Izzy didn’t deserve someone. She did. I was just selfishly glad that I’d get her to myself for the weekend.
Her smile was instant and heart-stoppingly beautiful. “Just wait until we get home and I make you watch Ladyhawke.”
“Your namesake?” The corners of my mouth curved. “Can’t wait.” I would sit around and watch someone read a phone book if it meant I got to be with Izzy . . . I just wasn’t sure I was going to last in this bar much longer without losing whatever was left of my sanity.
“If you could only watch one movie for the rest of your life, what would it be?” she asked.
“That’s a tough one.” My eyes met hers, and I knew what she was doing—the same thing I’d done for her on the plane, distracting me with the questions.
“Take your time.”
“Lord of the Rings: Return of the King,” I answered. “But maybe my answer will change to Ladyhawke after tonight. Who knows?”
She leaned in and brushed her mouth over mine, and every nerve in my body went on high alert. “Thank you for today.”
I threaded my fingers through her hair and pulled her in, deepening the kiss but keeping my tongue firmly behind my teeth. The first taste of her was a rush that flooded every cell in my body. Keeping myself in check was a struggle, but I managed. I wasn’t about to kiss her the way I wanted in front of all these people, so I pulled away before we headed that direction.
She smiled against my mouth as we broke apart, her hand rising to her chest. “You should feel the way my heart is pounding.” Her fingers brushed over the little lock necklace I’d bought her for her birthday. The shit that came in the little blue boxes was expensive, and she’d protested, but I figured classy girls wore classy jewelry.
“Mine too.” Maybe the admission wasn’t smooth, but I didn’t feel that kind of pressure around Izzy.
“Here you are,” the bartender said as she returned, putting our orders in front of us.
Izzy leaned back, and I instantly mourned the loss of her mouth.
“Thank you.” I put my debit card on the counter before Izzy could even try. “For a tab.”
“We won’t need a tab.” Izzy shook her head as she took the slim stem of the champagne glass between her fingers. “We’re only staying for one drink.” She glanced my way. “And thank you.”
“I’ll get your check.” The bartender nodded and took my card to the register.
“You sure about only one drink?” I lifted my brows at Izzy. “It’s your birthday. I’m down for whatever you want.”
“I don’t want to be drunk on the last night I get to have you with me.” She shrugged.
I would have argued, but I knew exactly how she felt. I wanted to remember every single second. “Happy birthday, Isabeau.” I lifted my beer.
“Thanks, Nate.” She smiled and clicked her glass against mine. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Me too.”
After the bartender brought my card back, Izzy and I sat there talking about her classes for the better part of a half hour while she sipped her champagne, and I barely touched my beer. Every time she tried to steer the conversation to how the deployment had gone for me, I carefully altered course right back to her. I tried to sit still, to focus only on her smile, her laugh, the light in her eyes, the overwhelming way I wanted her and didn’t have a damn clue what to do about it. But the walls closed in tighter and tighter, and the people came closer, reaching around us to get to the bar, bumping into my back, reaching into their pockets for . . . wallets.