Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
As we walked by Candace, who was helping someone find a book, my mother stopped and gave her a quick hug. “It was good seeing you, Candace. Remember, don’t do drugs.”
Candace’s eyes went wide with shock—as did those of the customer standing there holding a book. Snapping her head over to look at me, Candace whispered, “What does that mean?”
It was my turn to wave my hands in the air. “Nothing, don’t listen to her.”
Before Mom left, she turned and faced me once more. “Enjoy your dinner tonight with Higgins.”
“Hudson, Mom. His name is Hudson.”
With a soft pat on my upper arm, she leaned in close and whispered, “Don’t forget to pick up some condoms. You can’t always rely on the man to do it.”
My mouth fell open and nothing come out. My mother winked at me one more time, waved, and then dashed out the door.
Before I could recover, Candace came up beside me. “Don’t worry, I already slipped two into your purse.”
I stood and gave the table one last look. I had made sure to keep everything casual. No candles, no music, nothing that would say this was a romantic dinner of any sorts. With a smile, I spun on my heels and headed back into the kitchen to finish up the cheese and fruit tray I had put together.
I took one quick glance at the time and started to chew nervously on my lower lip. It was seven on the dot.
Was Hudson the type of guy to show up late? He didn’t seem like it. What if he’d changed his mind?
“Oh, for the love of all things, Greer. Stop acting like a twelve-year-old.”
My private entrance doorbell rang, and I jumped. I could have used the intercom to let Hudson in, but instead, I quickly made my way down the steps and unlocked the door.
When I opened it, I was momentarily robbed of speech.
Hudson stood before me, his brown hair a mix between perfectly styled and messy all at the same time. Those deep brown eyes of his twinkled when he smiled, and I had to force myself to take a breath. He was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeve, black turtleneck that showcased his fit shape. Who would have thought that a turtleneck on a man could be so damn sexy?
“Hey,” I managed to say as I stepped to the side and motioned for him to come in.
“You mentioned we were having pasta, so I took it upon myself to stop at the local market and pick up their best bottle of chardonnay.”
Laughing, I took the bottle from him and started up the steps to my place. “I told you not to bring anything.”
“My parents taught me to never show up to a dinner date empty-handed.”
I glanced back at him and smiled. “As much as I love the gesture, I do have a wine I’m dying to taste. I went to Italy with a friend of mine a few years back, and I’ve been holding on to it ever since.”
“Oh wow, I feel honored you’re going to open it for me.”
I had left the door to my place open, so the smell of fresh bread and alfredo sauce drifted through the hallway.
Once inside, I shut the door and watched as Hudson took in my place. “This is beautiful, Greer. The crown molding is amazing. Is it original?”
I glanced up at the detailed wood crown molding that covered every inch of my place. “Yes. When this building was first built by Mr. Jonathon Pierce, the first floor and second floors were a general store. The third and fourth floors were Mr. Pierce’s family residence for a number of years. When they had their fifth child, he built a house down on Pecan Street. It’s still there and is now listed as a historical landmark. It’s a stunning house. Mr. Pierce was the second son of a duke in England. He moved to America to get out from under his father’s iron hand. His family coat of arms is still hanging up on the fourth floor; I didn’t have the heart to take it down. Someday I will, though, and I’ll donate it to the Boggy Creek Museum. Mr. Pierce did an awful lot for this town.”
“Wow, that’s some really interesting history.”
With a smile, I replied, “It is. I’ll give you a tour after dinner. Right now, I need to get to that alfredo sauce before it burns.”
Ten minutes later, Hudson and I were seated at my dining table, each with a plate of grilled chicken, fettucine noodles, homemade alfredo sauce, and freshly baked bread.
When Hudson took a bite, he let out a low moan of pleasure. “My God, Greer. You really should own a restaurant and not a bookstore. You’re an amazing cook.”
I felt my cheeks grow hot as I took a bite of bread, chewed, and swallowed. “I love cooking, but I don’t think I’d love to do it for a living. It would make me not like it as much.”