Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 99545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I can’t take him seriously.
I also can’t eat this half-cold breakfast wrap I so greedily withheld from him before.
Extending my hand, I present it to him. “Here. Have a bite.”
Jack leans back in the seat, crossing his arms.
My eyes drift, of their own accord, from his face…down to his shoulders…down to those crossed arms.
Biceps.
They look…firm. And strong. And…
I have no idea how to describe them. I know nothing about working out and being in shape and muscles, although I do quite all right for myself physically.
Do British guys have bodies like this? What are they feeding him where he comes from?
I dare to find out. “So Jack—where in England are you from?”
“Sussex. Less than an hour from London.”
I’ve never been to England, though I have been to Europe. It’s definitely a place I’d love to see, but I can’t imagine when on earth I’ll be able to visit.
Trips overseas don’t come around often—or ever—and the only reason I’ve been across the pond is because my grandmother is from Sicily and we went over to Italy for a wedding when I was young.
I was ten and remember some things but not enough. I wish I’d paid more attention. Wish I could have appreciated it for what it was while I was there, none of my photographs doing any of it justice.
I sigh. “You don’t want it now?”
I’m still holding—nay, dangling the wrap over the center of the table, its cold, lifeless shell no longer alluring to Jack though I’m doing my best to make it appealing.
“What did you do to it?” He sounds stodgy.
“Nothing. I’ve been sitting here staring at you this whole time. What could I have possibly done to it?” I shift in my seat, wondering what I can order off the menu that won’t take forever to prepare. “I will admit, it’s not that warm anymore.”
His look is triumphant, arms still crossed. “Ah—so you’re tossing off because it’s cold.”
Er. Sure.
What he said.
“Yes or no?”
He falters, wanting the breakfast wrap but not wanting to admit it. Jack is stubborn; I can see it in his dark eyes as he watches me, lips slightly pursed indignantly.
“Are you still hungry?”
He shifts in his seat. “I might be.”
“You know, if you’re not going to eat this, then I’ll just—”
I don’t even get the rest of the sentence out before he snatches it out of my hand and takes the first bite, chewing the massive piece he’s torn off with his teeth.
“Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
“No.” He manages to swallow. “I learned my manners from nannies and…” Jack pauses, taking another bite. Chews. Swallows. “At boarding school. Not really Mum.”
Mum.
I’d forgotten they call their mothers Mum in Britain, and I love the way it sounds. So romantic and different.
For a brief moment, Jack stops eating, taking a second to scrutinize the food in his clutches. “I don’t think I like this very much. Tastes like chalk and dog kibble.”
He pops it into his mouth.
“Then stop eating it.”
He’s like that little kid who can’t stop poking their own scab because it hurts.
“I can’t.” Chew, chew. “I’m hungry.”
There is no chance in hell I’m going to accomplish anything sitting across from this guy—he is so disruptive, and not necessarily in a bad way.
Entertaining.
Funny.
Likes comics, too, apparently…
And Kaylee—don’t forget, he likes your roommate too.
I sit up straighter, remembering that little fact, plucking a menu from between the salt and pepper at the end of the booth. I study it anew.
I already know everything that’s on it—I’ve been here too many times.
But, if my nose is in the menu, it’s not busy learning to like Jack and getting to know him when all I really have to know is that he is interested in Kaylee.
Before I know it, the entire breakfast entrée is gone, Jack having devoured it in less than one minute flat. He’s actually licking his fingers despite the fact that he just told me it was disgusting.
That doesn’t negate the fact that I still have barely eaten anything and I’m still hungry. I decide on something to order and raise my gaze, hoping to catch the server as she weaves her way through the crowded café.
Luckily she’s paying attention and is damn good at her job so she makes her way over from across the room. I notice her eyes straying to Jack with interest; it’s obvious she’s attracted to him. And who wouldn’t be? He’s so handsome. Like a modern-day lumberjack flown in from Great Britain just for us! Minus the plaid and axe.
Bet if we put him in an axe throwing bar, he would fit right in though…
I order an omelet.
Healthy. Light.
“An omelet?” Jack snorts. “That’s boring.”
“We can’t all gorge ourselves on baked goods first thing in the morning.”
“First thing? Half the day is gone!”
Uh, not for me!
I’ve never been an early riser, and today is the weekend so I felt no rush waking up. No classes, no extracurricular activities, nowhere to be. Why wouldn’t I sleep late? It’s not like I have anyone to be accountable to. I have a job, but it’s part time, and my shifts are usually in the afternoons if I’m scheduled at all, so I never have to rush around in the morning.