Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Fine,” Edward said with an exasperated huff. “But you are going out to dinner with me. I made reservations at this great place that serves local cuisine. I’ve been to it before and never been disappointed.”
“Dinner out is a good idea.” It would keep him from spending too much time in the gorgeous hotel room with the man that he was still interested in sexually—despite everything he’d said. The sex had been spectacular, and that wasn’t something Daniel had a lot of in his life. Edward was incredibly sexy. Too bad he was such a shit.
Two hours later, he sat across from that shit over a candle-lit, black table. Stone walls and the intimate setting would have made this a great place for a romantic dinner, but Daniel was feeling anything but romance. No, he was too busy resenting the fact that he was here in a place he would normally have given anything to visit—but not under these circumstances.
Daniel took a bite of his canelons and nearly moaned in appreciation. Now, this was worth the trip. The stewed meat, pasta, and creamy béchamel sauce made the perfect mix of flavor, and he decided to find a recipe when he got home because this was worth having more often. Maybe even once a week. He eyed Edward’s plate of cuttlefish and meatballs in a rich-looking gravy. If this had been an actual date, like how it all started on the Bermuda beach, he’d be able to wrangle a bite, but there was no way he was asking Edward for a taste. He had no doubt that the man would happily agree, but he was trying to keep as much distance as possible between them. No reason to get too friendly with the asshole. That was what got him into this mess in the first place.
“Well, the food here is wonderful,” Daniel said. “If I go home with any good experiences at all, this is one.”
“I’d say we’re both going home with a good experience. It was beyond good, in fact.”
He ignored the sexual innuendo in those words and took another bite of his pasta.
“So, tell me about Daniel Hendricks.” Edward said, before taking a sip of his wine.
“I thought you had all the information.” He knew he sounded catty, and he didn’t give a crap. Everything about that wonderful day and night with Edward had been a sham. They’d had what felt like a real romantic dinner before the sex. Knowing it hadn’t been real at all filled him with the kind of anger and resentment that formed a hard knot in his stomach. And he wasn’t about to let that ruin the good food.
Edward narrowed his eyes at him over the flickering candle. “Would you rather just sit here in awkward silence, stewing over something that you can’t change? Yeah, life dealt you a raw deal, and now you’re stuck on an all-expenses paid trip to Barcelona. I thought we could share a nice meal and a little conversation.”
“We aren’t friends, Edward.”
“Fine. Coworkers, then?”
“Anything I could say, you probably already know.” Daniel knew he sounded petulant, but he was struggling to move past his anger at Edward. He didn’t want to think about how many times Edward had already apologized or about the fact that the man was just trying to do a job. A dangerous one, in fact.
Edward didn’t say anything but gave a little weary shake of his head.
With a sigh, Daniel forced himself to keep talking. “I grew up in Northern Kentucky, have four older sisters, and I got a degree in criminal justice because my father’s business was accused of money laundering—he was innocent, by the way. I was recruited into the FBI out of college, but only worked for them a few years. I have a job I love a lot now at Ward Security. I’m an open book. Boring.”
“You’re anything but boring.” Edward speared a meatball and popped it into his mouth.
“Trust me, I am. And I prefer it that way. I like my life the way it is, and that doesn’t include crazy trips to Spain to track down international spies.” He went quiet as the server came and refilled their glasses. He picked up his wine and held it. “Why don’t you tell me about what you do?”
“I can’t really talk about what I do.”
Daniel scowled. “Then tell me something about you. Your childhood, maybe.”
Edward was silent for several moments. He set his fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I grew up in foster care, so I moved around a lot. There was this one place I really liked when I was ten to twelve and I thought I’d be staying there a long time, but the father grew sick and I got sent off along with the two other foster kids they had. I moved from home to home after that until I aged out of the system.”