Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“Oh, how exciting! What’s his name?”
“Um, I’m not really sure.”
“No problem. You’re not the first blind date we’ve had here. When he arrives, I’ll tell him you’re at the bar.”
Maisie smiled and thanked the hostess then made her way inside. This was her second time at the upscale restaurant, her first being when she got the job at the hospital and her parents took her out to celebrate. The price point was a bit out of her weekly reach, but the special occasion called for a place like Rose’s.
Maisie found a seat at the bar and sat down. She looked around at the other people and noticed a lot of single mingles, like her. How many others were on blind dates or had taken out ads in the newspaper in a bid to get someone’s attention? And then, it hit her. The ton of bricks was heavy and pressing down onto her chest. What if he, the man of her dreams, showed up and had more than one date waiting for him? Was that even possible?
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.
“Wa—” Maisie cleared her throat. She needed something stronger than water. “I’ll take whatever your dry rosé is.”
The bartender returned with her glass and asked if she needed anything else. Maisie shook her head and took a sip of her wine, and then looked at her phone. Each minute that passed by turned into another level of anxiousness. Even if Mr. Butter showed up and they didn’t hit it off, at least she tried. Of course, if he didn’t show up, she’d always wonder, and she knew herself well enough to know she wouldn’t give up looking for him in every crowd. He was out there, somewhere.
Five minutes later, she looked toward the door and there he was, dressed in the same suit he had worn at the grocery store. Had he done that specifically for her? Maisie took a moment to take him all in. He was still as tall, if not taller, than she remembered. His hair seemed to have more curl now than she recalled, not that it mattered because she likened him to Henry Cavill. He continued to scan the room until their eyes met. This was Maisie’s moment—the one she wanted.
Maisie spun on the barstool so he could see her black dress and waved. Mr. Butter smiled, but his eyes weren’t on hers anymore. With a slight turn, Maisie saw that the woman beside her was eyeing him up appreciatively as well.
Well, fuck.
Defeated. That’s how she felt. She signaled to the bartender for her tab. She’d done what she came to do and failed. He was there to meet someone else. Maisie pulled her credit card out of her clutch and started to hand it to the bartender.
“I’ve got this,” the husky voice beside her said. Maisie held her breath while she gathered all the courage she needed to look at the man who stood extremely close to her. Slowly, she looked up and saw Mr. Butter glancing down at her.
“I believe our table is ready.”
six
Dean stood in Rhys’s closet and thumbed through the copious amounts of suit jackets hanging pristinely. He shook his head and took a drink from the can of beer he held in his other hand.
“Why are you drinking in my closet? Better yet, what are you doing in my closet?” Rhys asked his cousin.
“Looking for something for you to wear.”
“I’m not going.”
“Yes, you are. You need a night out.”
“You sound like my mother,” Rhys told Dean. “She said the same thing.”
“You told her?”
Rhys shook his head, even though Dean faced the other way. “Gloria reads the column and the one that may or may not be about me became a hot topic at the dinner table.” Rhys often referred to his mom by her first name, instead of saying “my mom” or “your aunt” when he spoke about her. Trey had also recently begun calling her by her name instead of “Grandma” and Rhys thought she was going to drop dead due to heartbreak.
Dean gave up looking for a suit and turned to face his cousin. “What did my aunt have to say?”
“She said she hopes that whoever the message was for shows up.”
“Really?”
Rhys nodded and pushed away from the doorjamb, with Dean following. “Gloria’s a hopeless romantic, so of course she’d be on board with something like that. Senior is the levelheaded one in the family.”
“You mean pompous ass.”
“That too,” Rhys smirked. He loved his father, but Dean was right. Senior seemed to always have a stick up his ass, unless Gloria walked into the room and then he had hearts in his eyes for his only girl. That was one thing Rhys admired about his parents—the love they had for each other. It rivaled the Hollywood greats like Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward—time-tested and true.