Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
I sniffed the flowers as I walked past through into the kitchen.
And stopped in my tracks.
A giant bouquet of flowers sat in a crystal vase in the middle of the island counter. Shades of red, pink, and purple flowers burst out of the top of it, framed by green leaves and interspersed with sprays of white. Lilies and roses and other smaller flowers brightened my simplistic kitchen like crazy.
A small envelope was leaning against the vase. My name was printed on the front of it in Damien’s blocky handwriting.
Had he hand-delivered these? And why?
I tore into that envelope like my life depended on it, almost dropping my phone and keys in the process. I set them safely on the counter before I pulled the notecard from the envelope because with how tired I was feeling, I knew I would actually drop them, and then I’d just be annoyed at myself.
DAHLIA,
WILL YOU HAVE DINNER WITH ME TONIGHT?
DAMIEN
PS: DON’T PANIC. DUSTIN LET ME IN.
I laughed as I read the last line. Actually, I laughed at the whole thing. All the conversations we’d had, and he finally asked…After entering my house with permission.
It was the little things, and even if I’d had the energy to be annoyed, I couldn’t be.
I swapped the paper for my phone and texted him.
Me: Thank you for the flowers. And yes, I will have dinner with you. Where and when?
I’d barely finished making a coffee when his reply came through.
Damien: My house, whenever you’re ready.
Damien: Are you still at work?
Me: No. I just got home. I can be there in an hour. Does that work?
Damien: It does if you come without any underwear.
Clearly, he didn’t know how gross it was for women to not wear underwear. Besides, I had a better idea.
Me: Sorry, no deal.
Damien: Why not?
Me: How can you take it off me if I’m not wearing it?
Damien: Hmm… Excellent point. And your shoes were delivered this afternoon…
Well. That changed things.
Me: I can make it in 30.
Damien: Imagine that.
Me: Want shoes, will rush.
Damien: See you soon.
***
The only thing I hadn’t considered when getting changed and packing my things for what would inevitably be an overnight stay was whether or not I was going to tell him that I’d found his sister.
Found her, spoken to her, and offered her a job.
When I put it like that, our meeting had escalated very quickly.
Now, it was too late to think about that. I’d either be brave and spit it out or be a chicken and not say a word until I had to.
I wasn’t being a very successful adult today that much was for sure.
Damien swung his front door open before I could even knock. Instantly, his eyes dropped to the bag in my hand. “Overnight bag? Presumptuous.”
“From the man who told me to come without underwear.”
Lifting his gaze up to mine, he grinned. “I said it was presumptuous—I didn’t say it was wrong.” He took it from me and I followed him inside.
The house was filled with the scent of freshly cooked food, and I sniffed like an idiot as I tried to determine what it was.
“It’s just steak,” he said with a laugh. “Come on.”
I took his hand. And noticed how differently we were dressed. He wore a light gray shirt and black pants. I wore yoga pants and a tank top that said, “Bitch, please, I ride a unicorn.”
I grimaced. Was I supposed to dress up? He didn’t say. Should I have assumed?
Damn it. Only idiots showed up to dinner in yoga pants.
Actually, no. That was a lie. All dinners should be eaten in yoga pants. He was the idiot for wearing real clothes.
There. That was better.
His fingers tightened around mine as he led me into the dining room. The only source of light was the candles on the table. Two were set at the end closest to us, and flowers to match mine—although smaller—were situated in the middle of the table. Two covered plates filled the spaces where we were to sit, and he even had a bottle of wine in an ice bucket.
“Whoa,” I whispered. “What is this for?”
Damien looked down at me. “I never got to cook you dinner. So, I owed you, and I wanted to thank you for last night, so I did this.”
“You cooked this? And set it up?”
“I may have had a little help in setting up. Apparently, my romance skills don’t live up to my bedroom ones.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “I feel a bit underdressed.”
He ran his gaze up and down me, sending a flash of heat searing through my body. “Hold on.”
I spun on the balls of my feet as he swept past me and left me standing in the middle of the dining room. What was he doing?
What was I doing just standing here? Did I sit down? Pour wine? Sniff flowers? Follow him?