Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
You’re attracted to her, asshole.
Yeah, no shit, brain. Tell me something I don’t know. But I can handle a little attraction.
Surely, I can.
She gestures to the charcuterie board approvingly as I sit. “Look at you. Breaking out the cheese plate. You really are getting into this whole Love Doctor thing.” She reaches for a slice of Camembert and pops it past her lips.
Her pretty, glossy lips. Now, I can’t stop staring at her as she eats cheese.
This is my life—I talk to her like a client, or I think of her like she’s the object of my dirty fantasies. I’ve got to find the middle ground.
“The cheese good?” I ask, trying to talk normally. Grunting, “Cheese good,” is not an impressive conversational achievement.
“It’s better,” she says.
The meaning isn’t lost on me. She’s saying, so far, this evening with me is better than her last date. That’s a relief, and it eases my nerves at last. Time to focus solely on her. That’s why I developed my plan after all—to help her navigate the wilds of dating. “Then, what do you say we make it past the cheese plate portion? ExtraDate. Combo date. Extend-a-date?”
She rolls her eyes, but a smile teases her lips. “Fine. You win. Let’s order the main course and get to the extend-a-date.”
“It’s a plan.” I shouldn’t feel so victorious at lasting past the cheese plate.
But I do.
Fuck Mister Cheese Douche. I’m a better date than he is.
After we order, Juliet meets my gaze, all businesslike and eager. “Ready to help me find some small-town men?”
Ha. If she only knew. “First, want some rosé?” It’s all part of my plan.
She tilts her head, her lips curving up in welcome curiosity. “That’s my favorite. Did you know that?”
“You mentioned it once. A year ago. You were talking about a date with some dude named Grady,” I recount, managing to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. What a feat.
“The blacksmith,” she says, and I don’t roll my eyes at that either. I’m seriously fucking impressing myself now.
That was the first clue Grady was a bad boy—he claimed he was a blacksmith when he actually worked as a metal collector. But he makes a good lead-in to my pitch.
“His only redeeming quality was his taste in rosé,” I say, quoting her back to her.
“You remember what I said.” She sounds surprised, maybe even delighted.
“I remember lots of things.” I hold her gaze as I pour us both a glass.
She reaches for one and lifts it. “I’ll drink to that, then,” she says, and I think she’s talking about memories, but I can’t be sure.
Only, tonight isn’t about the memories of us in Darling Springs. It’s about new ones she’ll make here.
After she takes a sip, she lets out a moan of culinary enjoyment. “Mmm. So good I could kiss the bottle.”
A wave of heat rolls down my spine at that unexpectedly filthy image. Juliet kissing a bottle of rosé. I didn’t know that was a turn-on till now. But I add it to the long list of things she does that arouse me, then return to my goal. “I’ve solved your dating dilemma,” I announce.
“You have? I thought the dilemma was, um, already solved? I’m going to date with my mom. Try small-town men as my new dating reset.”
I suppress the growl that builds in my chest, quieting the slumbering dragon. No need for jealousy again because I’ve got a better plan. With my chin up and my confidence on, I tell her, “I’m going to be your dating coach.”
She tilts her head quizzically. “What does that mean? That you’ll help me sort through the matches like we talked about?”
Yes and no. Herein lies the brilliance. “Yes. And then I’ll be your dates. All of them.”
12
COSPLAYERS
Monroe
If I’d thought she looked confused seconds ago, that was nothing next to her expression now. It’s like I’ve started speaking in differential calculus.
She squints at me as if trying to figure me out. “You’re going to be all my dates? Are you a dating superhero?”
“Yes.” I square my shoulders. “I can be your dating coach and your dates all in one. I’ve been working on this idea since breakfast, and I think this can help since you said you’ve gotten low-tier matches, and you want to choose better ones.”
“That’s true.” She’s arching a brow but leaning closer. She’s skeptical but intrigued. “But how would you being all my dates help fix that?”
“It’ll be like a role-play dating exercise. I’ll pretend I’m all the dates you pick. Like that, I’ll help you figure out the red flags so you can avoid the bad boys and break your one-date streak.”
From her dubious stare, I can tell she’s not buying what I’m selling. “Every guy I’ve one-dated lately has been completely different, and there hasn’t been a motorcyclist in the bunch,” Juliet protests.