Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
That definitely would have been something to look forward to.
Chapter Twelve - Brady
It had been a long time since I had been over to someone’s house for dinner. Well, someone who didn’t happen to be another football player, anyway. And even then, those hadn’t been sit-down-and-mind-your-manners kinds of meals. More like pizza and beer after the game, or take-out at someone’s apartment.
This was different. A lot different.
It felt almost like I was on a date, even though Joanne’s mom was, well, Joanne’s mom, and Joanne’s attitude had seemed to fall somewhere between “not interested” and actively disliking me ever since I had broken the news to her about selling the flower shop.
So… yeah. That part didn’t feel like a date at all.
But the nerves? The sweaty palms? The dry mouth? That was all very familiar and very much like the way I’d felt during the handful of actual, real-life, movie-and-dinner-and-maybe-get-lucky dates that I’d been on in the past. Except tonight, there was no movie, the dinner had been better than any restaurant I’d been to, and the chances of getting lucky later?
Yeah, pretty much nonexistent.
Still, it was time with Joanne, and that was the real reason I had agreed to dinner in the first place.
I’d never been so attracted to a woman from the get-go, and even though Joanne had pretty much given me the cold shoulder all afternoon—had deprived me of that bright smile I couldn’t get enough of—I had still hoped something might change.
What, though?
I was pretty sure Joanne didn’t even care that I was interested, let alone available. It would’ve been awkward enough to make that announcement at the best of times, especially considering how weird I had made things between the two of us in the beginning. But now? What was the point? Why would I even bring it up, since I just wanted to sell the shop and get the hell out of town as quickly as possible?
No matter how many times I asked myself those questions, I couldn’t seem to come up with a good answer. It hadn’t stopped me from jumping at the opportunity to spend just a little bit more time with her, though. Time outside work, where it didn’t matter at all that I was technically her boss. Time I could maybe use to prove to Joanne that I wasn’t actually an asshole, even if I did plan on selling Dad’s shop.
“You got quiet, Brady,” Tammy smiled over the half-empty plates that were spread out on the table. “Something on your mind?”
I quickly looked from Tammy to Joanne, belatedly realizing that she was right. I’d lost track, and the conversation had stalled out.
Well, conversation might have been too generous a term. Joanne had barely spoken two words throughout the entire meal, and even though I barely knew the girl, I could already tell that—unlike I—silence was unusual for her.
Tammy hadn’t seemed put off by how subdued Joanne was acting, though, so I had tried not to worry too much. I had no doubt it was due to the news about selling the shop, but maybe—hopefully—she would get over it as quickly as she had the comment from the day before.
Anyway, it was enough just to try and keep up with Tammy. She had enthusiastic questions about—well, everything. And even though I normally didn’t open up to strangers, there was something about her that had instantly put me at ease.
I’d felt it back at the shop when I’d first met her, and the feeling had been confirmed once I was inside her house. Everything about her was just warm and inviting and… happy. Motherly. It was nice.
It was easy to see where Joanne got her quick, wide smile and sparkling blue eyes from. I had seen hints of the same bright, inquisitive personality in both mother and daughter, but… maybe not so much tonight, in Jo’s case.
I smiled as I considered how to answer Tammy’s question. There was plenty on my mind, but only so much of it was suitable for easy-breezy dinner conversation.
“I was just thinking about how you’ve spoiled me for normal food, Tammy,” I finally settled on. “Now I’ll never be able to eat anywhere else without comparing it to your cooking.”
“Well, thank you,” she said, smiling warmly at the compliment. “It’s nice to cook for someone besides just me and Joanne for a change. And I do imagine it’s better than whatever sort of fast food you’ve been eating. You know you’re welcome to come over for a meal anytime while you’re in town.”
I laughed. Meals on the road hadn’t been that bad—certainly not lacking enough to qualify as fast food, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. Besides, I’d meant it when I’d complimented her cooking. Junk or not, the food I’d survived on for the last ten years was nowhere near as good as the lasagna she’d prepared for dinner tonight.