Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
With heaviness in every bone in my body, I reply.
Nate: I’m doing okay. Getting my WTF marriage annulled. That’ll be fun.
Then I close my eyes and turn off my phone.
18
WARM NUTS ARE THE ANSWER TO EVERYTHING
Nate
I’ve been staring at the inside of my eyelids for an hour listening to the same scene in the same damn Axel Huxley thriller. I’m not sure if the vigilante-for-hire has rappelled into the museum in Munich using his belt, or his backpack, or dental floss.
I hit pause on the audiobook. The guy’s books are badass, like his heroes. But I have no clue if his newest hero is trying to recover a stolen treasure map or a booklet of IKEA assembly instructions.
Instead of listening, I’ve been replaying images from last night—a concert, a poker game, some bourbon, a bet.
I get how the wedding happened.
But I also don’t get how it happened.
Why did I agree to it so easily? I definitely remember that moment in the VIP room where I declared getting hitched was the perfect end to a perfect night.
But why the hell would I say that?
Beats me.
I stare down at my ring like it’s a strange artifact from a foreign land. It still hasn’t given me any answers when Grace stops by with a tray.
“Would you like a snack?” she asks.
God, I love warm nuts when I fly. I don’t even know why. It’s not like I crave them at home. But they’re a million times better on a plane.
“Yes, thanks.” I take the ceramic dish as she moves to the row behind me. I’m about to pop a macadamia into my mouth when I stop, stare at the dish again.
Does Hunter like warm nuts?
I slip back to last night. To how I couldn’t keep my hands off him. To how it felt to kiss him all night long—at the poker game, at the concert, in the nightclub, at the second poker game, in the limo.
The man never once pushed me away. Never said he was tired. Never claimed a headache.
Hunter was there, with me, the whole time. Touching me back. Kissing me too.
Laughing, joking, talking.
It was everything I’ve missed. Everything I’ve been starving for.
To top it off, he ordered breakfast in advance so we wouldn’t have hangovers.
I unbuckle the seatbelt and head to the back of the plane, taking the dish of warm nuts with me. I don’t know Hunter’s seat number, but I swing my gaze over the rows of weary travelers. When I spot him near the back, my pulse surges.
That’s annoying.
I should not be affected by the sight of him, his strong jawline, his full lips, his deep brown eyes. Or how he looks tapping away on his laptop, worrying at the corner of his lip. He drags a hand through his blond hair and I want that to be my hand.
But minus a ring.
That’s the problem. I can’t have nice things like casual dates because I fuck them up. I date like I’m on speed and steroids, chased with Red Bull.
When I’m two feet away, Hunter raises his face. “Oh, hi.”
It’s like I’m in high school again, walking into the library, searching for the cute nerd who ran the video game club so I could ask him out.
“I brought you this,” I say, thrusting the ceramic container of nuts at him.
Wow.
That’s so smooth. Hello, peasant in coach, here are my first-class leftovers for you.
Can I not behave like a dick today?
But Hunter’s lips twitch mischievously. “I was hoping for some warm nuts.” He takes the dish, plucks out a cashew and holds it up for inspection. “Cashews or macadamia nuts? Which one do you prefer?”
“Walnuts,” I say with a smile.
He fishes around and hands a nut to me.
“Hunter, I hate to break it to you. This is a pecan,” I say.
“Ah, but I bet you like them too. More than pie,” he says, like he’s got a secret.
“I do like pecans.” But I especially dig that he remembered my likes and dislikes from the day we met.
Only, I didn’t come back here to flirt.
I came here because I had something to say. The seat next to him is empty. Maybe his seatmate is in the bathroom. I can make this fast. The hum of the plane gives me some white noise for privacy. “Listen,” I begin.
He tilts his head, attentive, but his eyes are wary.
I push on. “I had a really great time last night. And it’s been a while since I’ve had a great time. So, I just wanted to say…thank you.”
“I had a great time too,” he says, then his gaze strays to the seat next to him.
Ah hell, I can get a massage in London. I gesture to the middle seat. “Do you…want company? I can join you here if the seat is free.” Then I stop, flap my hand toward his laptop. “Shit. You’re working. I’ll leave you alone.”