Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Riley: First date with app guy, Mark. Meeting in public at Alex Lighthouse at five thirty. I’ll text when I’m home.
Eli: So I should expect your text in the morning? Don’t do anything or anyone I wouldn’t do.
Riley:
Eli’s instruction leaves me more than enough room to do anything I would want to because I’m not half as crazy as he is.
I grab my purse and look back at my apartment, just in case we do ‘happen’ to end up here. I’m pleased as always with what I find. Sure, it’s not the biggest. It’s just a one-bedroom place. But it’s in a nice complex in a good part of town, within walking distance of a nice supermarket, and best of all, I don’t have to break the budget on a monthly basis for it.
“Wish me luck, Raffy. Don’t wait up!” I sing-song as I pull the door closed behind me, checking the lock. As I head to my little yellow Volkswagen bug, with sunshine hubcaps, of course, my brain replays my messages with Mark over and over. I’m looking for red flags I might’ve missed, but I mostly end up smiling as I remember funny things he’s said.
There’s something about Mark that tells me he’s one of a kind and that where we don’t match, we compliment. We fill gaps, as someone once said. I’ve got gaps, he’s got gaps, and together, we’ve filled gaps.
Now let’s see if we want to fill those gaps that haven’t been filled properly in a long time.
Riley Ann! I yell at myself. But truthfully, I don’t feel embarrassed or ashamed about my naughty thoughts. After last night, I might have to hold myself back from Mark if he’s half as amazing as I think he is.
I cross my fingers that it’s the case, and I start my car and head to the bookstore, hope blooming the whole way there.
* * *
Driving toward the bookstore, I try to be present in the moment. Briar Rose is a beautiful town with crape myrtle trees blooming in pinks and whites in the medians, families playing in the park as I pass, and people walking the sidewalks.
It’s not small, though. We have a bustling downtown and rail system that’ll get you anywhere in town easily.
The sun is shining, there’s not a cloud in the blue sky, and I’m on my way to meet Mark.
It doesn’t get any better than this right here, enjoying the moment and on the precipice of something possibly great.
Stopping at the Iron Bridge, I decide to skip the radio today and instead tap my phone quickly. “Play audiobook Baby Daddy.”
“Playing audiobook file,” my phone replies, and I have to grin. Voice control’s a lot easier than tapping at a screen while I drive, that’s for sure. Safer, too. Although my insurance agent would probably have a heart attack if he knew I was driving along while listening to a romance audiobook.
But I’ve been reading and listening to a lot of romance lately. At first, it was just to live a bit vicariously since my own love life is so nonexistent, but after chatting with Mark for the past week, I’ve been drawn into the steamier side of romance once again. I even imagine that the voice actor playing the lead in this audiobook is what Mark sounds like.
And as the book gets steamier and hotter, I imagine Mark telling me things like he did last night. Much more explicit things . . . what he wants to do to me, what he wants me to do to him, what we can do together.
Whew! I turn up the air conditioning a notch because with the sunshine beating down through the windows, it’s getting hot in here. Yeah, that must be it.
Suddenly, my book stops, and a ringing tone comes over my speakers. “Mom calling.”
Ugh. Okay, okay . . . well, that’s what I get for having my phone synced with my car’s audio system. Mom can interrupt a hot romance with a phone call. Reaching over, I tap the green button on my screen. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, honey,” Mom says, like she starts every phone call since I moved out of the house. “How’s my baby girl doing on this beautiful afternoon?”
“Ah, Mom, you mind if I call you back?” I ask as I turn down Vine, a half-mile from the bookstore. “I’m in the car. You know, safety?”
Okay, I do feel a little guilty about trying to claim safety when I was just listening to a guy talking about what his mouth and tongue were doing on his lover’s body twenty seconds ago . . . but not too guilty. Mothers ruin date moods. It’s a universal law. Besides, I don’t want to tell her, but I also don’t want to lie to her.