Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
My cheeks got warm.
He got quiet before leaning over to speak under his breath. “I know this is a friends-only thing, but I hope it’s okay if I admit that I’m still hopeful it might turn into something more. No pressure, though, and I mean that. I can back off if you’d like, treat you like a genuine friend, because I want that as well.”
I looked at him and saw he was watching Lo with knowing eyes. I held what I’d been about to say.
“Lo told me you don’t socialize much,” he added.
The way he said that—my back straightened. “Is this a pity date?”
His eyes widened. “No. God, no, unless it’s the other way.” His mouth tugged up in a crooked grin.
I flushed because it worked for him—the crooked grin, the self-mocking comment and tone, but his eyes were intense.
I sighed, feeling my tummy flutter. “You have a cop’s eyes.”
He shrugged, but those eyes never lost their intensity. “Attribute from the job, I’m afraid.”
“I’ve grown up seeing cops’ eyes, and for a while, it was every day.”
His mouth flattened, but he was still leaning toward me.
I couldn’t ignore the tingle I got from him. “I never knew if I liked seeing those eyes or not, because at that time in my life, everything shifted. My dad was barely around when I was growing up, and my mom said it was always better if we didn’t have a relationship with him. He showed up at random times. He’d stay a few days and take off. My mom said he preferred it that way so we knew his face, knew the name she called him, knew his voice. That was it. But after surviving the Midwest Butcher, my mom and brother died in a car crash, and because the man whose sperm created me wasn’t a father, I went into the foster system. It all happened within a few days. A twist of the universe let it pour when it was already raining. I’ve always associated seeing a cop’s eyes with the worst week of my life.”
He straightened up, moving away from me.
I put my hand on his. “But I like yours.”
His hand jerked, but didn’t move away.
“I’m finding that they’re growing on me,” I added.
He exhaled slowly, as if he’d been holding his breath, and turned his hand upside down. Just as slowly, he laced our fingers. He moved our hands down to his lap, hidden from the table. “That’s good to know.”
There it was. Another tingle.
Maybe Lo was right.
Maybe the ember was the way to go.
Maybe I needed to let it grow.
“What’d we miss?” Lo and Roger arrived at the table, sounding out of breath as they sat. Lo nabbed the drink menu. “I need a drink. It’s Friday night, and the music is starting. Did you guys already order drinks?”
Roger was slower to sit, his gaze trained on the table, right above where our hands were. “You know,” he sounded surprised. “I think we should order a round for the table. Right? I’m right. Where’s our server?” He turned, and I caught his quick smile though he coughed, trying to cover it up.
Lo’s head snapped up. She frowned at him. “We’re already starting?”
He turned back to her, his smile stretched from ear to ear. “It’s Friday night, honey. Let’s do it right and take an Uber home.”
Lo’s mouth nearly fell open because they’d had a whole debate about who’d be driving home. It boiled down to Lo being willing to spend for an Uber and Roger wasn’t. He wanted his truck home and safely in his garage, because like all the females in his life, that truck was his baby.
I’d pointed out that I could drive, which both of them ignored. I was the one they wanted to have a good time.
“What just happened here? What did I miss?” Lo scanned over us, her eyes falling abruptly to the same place Roger’s had been.
Travis squeezed my hand before letting go, and he rested his arms on the edge of the table. “No need. I already put in an order. The bartender said they’d find us.” His eyes moved to a girl carrying two drinks, followed by another girl with another two. “And I think these are ours.”
As they set our drinks down, Lo leaned toward me and mouthed, What did I miss?
I grinned and shrugged.
She gave me a sharp look.
I ignored it, accepting my drink with a thank you.
Roger held his glass in the air. “A toast, please.” It wasn’t a request. It was a command.
We all lifted our drinks and waited.
He raised his higher and said, “To good friendships, to great family, and to always being thankful for the blessings we get each day. Cheers, everyone. Let’s enjoy the night as we continue to be blessed by being here with each other.”