Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“I’m going to change.” She goes into the bathroom to do just that. I take off my jeans, sliding the shorts on before slipping under the covers. She comes out in shorts and a tank top, meeting me under the covers. “Good night,” she mumbles before burying her face in my neck and falling asleep.
“Night, Gabriella.” I kiss her head and close my eyes, sleeping better than I have in months.
I wake up when I smell coffee the next morning, looking over I find the bed empty. I toss the covers off me, getting up and going to the bathroom before making my way downstairs. Only when I open the bedroom door do I hear the sound of the television playing. I walk down and see that Gabriella is having her coffee while sitting in the middle of the couch. “Good morning,” I grumble, going over and lying on the couch next to her. I kiss her neck before laying my head in her lap.
“Good morning.” She smiles at me and kisses my lips before looking back at the television. The two of us stay like this for an hour, her hand running through my hair like she always used to do.
“What do you want to do today?” she asks, and I look up at her.
“Let’s go on a date,” I suggest to her, and she smiles big.
“A date? Where?”
“No idea,” I answer her honestly, “but let’s go out.” I sit up. “We can stop by my hotel, grab something to eat, and then head out.”
“Okay,” she says, getting up and walking into the kitchen. “Let me go change.”
She runs up the steps, and I grab the phone, looking up the best places to go on a date in Dallas. The first thing that comes up is Top Golf, so I keep scrolling. I go to about seven or eight sites before I find what I want. I call the concierge and ask to make the arrangements before walking back upstairs. “What does one wear on a date?” She comes out of her closet wearing a pair of jeans. “Like I want something cute that says, look at me.”
“Gabriella, you could wear a potato sack, and people would look at you,” I tell her, taking off the shorts and tossing them on the bed before I grab my jeans. “But bring a sweater, just in case.”
“Where are we going?” she asks before walking back into her closet and looking over at me.
“It’s a surprise. Now, what do you want to eat? I’ll order it and have it waiting.”
“It must be nice being Hollywood royalty,” she jokes.
“This coming from the woman whose whole family is hockey royalty.” I chuckle. “We are going to discuss why you didn’t tell me.”
“There isn’t anything to tell.” She shrugs, walking back into her closet.
“Your brother is the top scorer of the league. Your grandfather is a legend,” I remind her. She comes out wearing tight white jeans with holes in the knees, with a matching white tank top that fits her like a glove. Her tits look fucking perfect as she holds a light pink jacket in her hand.
“My family is known in the hockey world,” she huffs, putting on her white sneakers. “Your family is known worldwide.”
I shake my head and wait for her to tell me she is done, kissing her lips and walking out to the car. I order us food while I drive there, and when we get to the hotel, I tell the valet I’ll be out in an hour. I walk with her hand in hand as we make our way to my suite. As soon as I walk into the suite, the ding of the elevator sounds again, and the food is arriving. The room service guy smiles at her, making me glare at him. “Eat while I change.” I kiss her lips before turning back to the man. “My girlfriend will be eating first.” I emphasize the word girlfriend.
“Oh, dear,” Gabriella says before walking over and sitting on the couch. We finish eating in under an hour, and when I’m getting back into the car, I punch the address in the GPS. I reach over and grab her hand as I follow the directions to the place.
“What is this?” She looks over at me, then back at the water.
“Well, I had to google places to go on a date in Dallas, and the top hit was Top Golf,” I explain to her, and she laughs. “This was under romantic.”
“But what is it?” she asks as she opens the door and steps out. I meet her at the back of the car as she looks around.
“Come on.” I slip my hand in hers as we walk toward the ramp. “This isn’t Venice,” I say to her as she looks around, “but it’s the closest thing I could get.” I stop in front of the man who is waiting.