Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
“Putting them in the salad.” I chose a few and turned to Blake, who lifted the basket out of my reach.
“No way, José. Mushrooms do not belong in a salad. Or anywhere.”
“But they’re delicious. And if you slice them thinly, they add a nice flavor.”
“No, they’re terrible.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my smile from spreading too quickly. He was unintentionally charming. And there was something endearing about an extraordinarily hot hunk of man who seemingly had no idea he was being ogled by a young mom bouncing a toddler on her hip and a couple of attractive college-aged women blindly filling a basket with apples.
“I’ll only add a few. If you hate them, we can set them aside to sauté with cilantro and—”
“Oh, now you’ve gone too far. Cilantro is evil.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Evil?”
“Awful. Criminal. It should never have been invented. Don’t even think about putting that in my basket.”
“It’s my basket too,” I protested, grinning from ear to ear when he sidled closer.
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law. I’m holding the basket, it’s mine.”
My shoulder brushed his biceps, renewing the butterfly brigade in my stomach.
“I’ll carry it.” I barely recognized my breathy tone. I sounded so…infatuated. Which was completely accurate.
I might as well face the facts—I had a big fat crush on Blake Johnston. Who could blame me? He was the full package.…Not only was he smart and good-looking, but he was on a mission to improve himself by being honest and open and—
“Hey!” Holden waved his arms over his head, causing the billowy sleeves of his medieval-esque cloak to fall to his elbows.
Oh. Farts on a fudgsicle.
What were the chances of running into one of my roommates while shopping with Blake? This wasn’t good. With any luck, Holden wouldn’t remember Blake from the coffee shop when we thought his name was Jake. But I wouldn’t hold my breath. Holden had an amazing memory.
“Still won’t work,” Blake said, holding on to my wrist. “I have a strict ‘no cilantro’ rule. It’s not allowed in my ride or my apartment or—do you know that guy?”
“Yes. He’s my friend.” I pulled out of Blake’s grasp, pasting a smile on my face and straightening my glasses nervously as Holden rounded a barrel of corn husks. “Hi, Holden. What brings you to the market?”
“I was tasked with providing fruit and water at my HRS meeting,” he replied, flashing a wide toothy smile. “And you?”
I didn’t miss the curious shift of his gaze between Blake and me. “Uh…”
“He’s helping me out.” Blake stepped forward, holding his fist out to do that bump thing sporty guys do. “I’m Blake, by the way.”
Holden curled his hand around Blake’s fist and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m—”
“Busy.” I intercepted with a half laugh. “Holden is buying fruit for HRS, and you’re buying lettuce and things.”
Blake raised a brow at my manic tone before addressing my evermore curious friend. “What’s HRS?”
“Historical Reenactment Society. I’m a member of our local chapter. We’re meeting today to discuss plans for a Shakespearean festival at Arroyo Park this summer. I’m going to have to retire my robe and dust off my doublet,” he said, shaking his sleeves.
I supposed this was as good a time as any to explain that Holden was the geekiest of all of my close friends.
Sure, I had my moments too. A lot of them. Some considered my obsession with Star Wars to be a red-flag nerd alert and maybe that was true, but Holden actually dressed up like characters from medieval times or the renaissance or whatever era his club was covering. I knew for a fact that if a time machine existed, Holden would drop everything to be the first in line.
I honestly loved that about him.
He taught astrophysics at Caltech while he finished his graduate degree at UCLA. He was a committed scientist involved in heady experiments, but he didn’t hesitate to walk into the market on a Saturday afternoon dressed like a monk from the renaissance period…even if he turned a few heads. Holden was six one with tidy short brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and thick glasses. He made a striking priest or sorcerer or…whatever he was supposed to be.
“That sounds cool. My students might be interested in that,” Blake commented, switching the basket from his left hand to his right again.
“Terrific. I can pass along the information to Asher for you.” Holden smiled, peeking at his watch as he reached for a bag of green apples. “I should go. I’m on a tight schedule. Should I get the oranges too, Ash?”
I furrowed my brow. “You’re hysterical.”
“See you tonight for the Lord of the Rings marathon. I vote pizza,” he called out before walking away.
Blake pulled the cilantro out of my hand and put it back on the shelf. He made a production of wiping his hand on his shorts, then bumped my shoulder. “Your roommate?”