Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
It seems that I need to have another chat with my daughter about stranger danger and keeping our personal details to ourselves.
“It’s me. Michelle.”
I run through my memory bank, trying to place this woman. I interact with dozens of people every day. Corporate law is not the right career path if one seeks solace.
“We dated for a hot minute in college.” She laughs. “It was during freshman year.”
That was fifteen years ago. I was eighteen and likely living it up. A lot of that year is a blur.
“You’ve changed,” she blurts out.
“So have you,” I shoot the hollow words back, wishing that my daughter wasn’t bearing witness to this exchange.
“I have,” she agrees. “I went by Shelly back then. My hair was brown and cut in a bob. I just got my braces off when we had our first date.”
I stare at her, still not able to place her.
“I had a crush on Declan Wells,” she confesses. “I was using you to get to him.”
“Ouch.” I feign pain by placing a hand against the middle of my chest.
“Uncle Declan is getting married,” Kirby once again hands out personal info. “To Auntie Abby.”
“Really?” Michelle’s eyes widen. “Isn’t she a lucky ducky?”
“Lucky ducky?” Kirby giggles her way through those two words. “I like that.”
“I like you.” Michelle pats the top of my daughter’s head as her gaze wanders over my jeans and sweater before landing squarely on my face. “You really came into your own, Rook.”
What the fuck is happening?
This woman drops the gem that she dated me fifteen years ago because she was hot for my best friend, and now she wants a piece of me?
“Are you single?” she asks without the slightest glance at my daughter.
That doesn’t stop Kirby from answering, “He is!”
How the hell did I lose control of this conversation?
“Let’s meet up for a drink when you’re….” She leans closer to me to drop her voice to a whisper. “Alone.”
Before my daughter can broadcast the news that I’ll be on my own for four days beginning a week from today, I shake my head. “It was good to see you, Shelly.”
“Michelle,” she corrects me. “It’s Michelle now.”
“Shelly is a nickname,” Kirby interjects. “Just like mine is Kirbs. Some of my friends call me that. It’s cute.”
“You’re cute,” Michelle says.
“You’re pretty,” Kirby offers. “My dad likes to drink water and sometimes root beer if I want a sip. So you know what to order him when you meet up for a drink.”
Dammit.
“I’ll look you up.” Michelle circles a fingertip in front of my face. “Unless you look me up first.”
That won’t happen, and it’s not because I can’t remember her surname.
“I’m hungry,” Kirby finally says something that works in my favor. “Can we go home for lunch now, Daddy?”
I pick her back up so I can sprint away from this woman. “We’re going now.”
“I’ll talk to you soon!” Michelle calls after us before she adds, “I bet you look just as good coming as you do leaving. Get it?”
Jesus.
“She seems nice,” Kirby whispers. “You should share a root beer with her.”
I won’t be sharing anything with her.
I have no objection to indulging in some fun with a beautiful woman when the opportunity presents itself, but Michelle or Shelly is someone I never intend to see again.
“We need to talk about stranger danger,” I say to my daughter as I once again slide her to her feet before we descend the concrete steps that lead to the subway platform. “We can’t tell our names to people we don’t know, Kirby.”
“I know.” She nods briskly. “But that lady was your old friend. She said you went on a date.”
She did say that, and I have no reason to doubt her. Whatever happened between us didn’t involve my dick, though, because I have never been the fuck and forget type. I remember every woman I’ve taken to bed and Michelle is not on that list.
“I knew her a long time ago.” I glance at my watch. “We need to race to catch the next train. We’ll talk about this more, though. It’s good to be friendly, but we have to be careful.”
“Yes, Daddy.” She sighs. “If you do go for a root beer date with Mishelly, will you tell me?”
I don’t need my five-year-old this invested in my personal life, so I let her down easy. “Daddy won’t be meeting her for root beer.”
“Okay.” Her gaze darts behind me. “Maybe you and I can have one when we get home?”
“That works for me.” I point at the concrete steps. “Are you ready, Kirbs?”
She lets out a laugh that sounds like music to my ears. “That’s what my best friends call me. Not you.”
I fake a frown. “I thought I was your best friend.”
She spreads the fingers on her right hand. “You’re my fifth best friend right now.”