Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Is this a pity date?”
“What? No—what are you talking about?”
“You don’t seriously want to go on a date. Are you just jealous because you didn’t have any other matches tonight?”
“Am I jealou—Molly. I didn’t get matches because yours was the only name I wrote down, and yes, maybe I am jealous. Is that a crime? Do you have to argue about everything?”
“A real date. As in…romantic interest kind of date?”
Eli hesitated. “Yes.”
Inhaling a breath of courage, I reach my hand over and nestle itself into his. Eli grips it without hesitating, squeezing softly as if reassuring me it was the right move to make and that he wanted to hold my hand too but perhaps didn’t have the balls to do it.
Fine. I think to myself, I have the balls for both of us to make a move.
This hesitant, unsure side of himself surprises me. On the outside, he seems to have it all: confidence, drive, arrogance, and unparalleled motivation to succeed.
But when it comes to me, it seems he doesn’t want to make the wrong move. I’m nothing like an acquisition at work or a contract to win, and he knows it. He knows my standards are high and that I have been in just as many bad relationships as he has. He knows that I am picky and fussy and stubborn because he is too.
Our walk leads us to a bridge over a babbling stream. Its clear water has us stopping to look over the railing’s edge.
Eli releases my hand but slides that arm around my waist as we stand to watch the rushing water below. Its soothing sound is a soundtrack I could probably fall asleep to.
“This is so peaceful,” I muse, keeping my eyes glued to the water to see if I can spot any wildlife. Fish, perhaps. A crayfish?
“I bet we could drink this. It’s so clear.”
That hand at my hip is like a brand. I can feel it through my jeans and on my skin.
Shit, perhaps I should have let him kiss me at the cottage. Perhaps I should let him do it now—get the whole thing out of the way so we’re both not thinking about it all night.
What’s the worst thing that could happen if our lips touch?
We’re mature adults—if it’s horrible then…we stop seeing each other romantically and go back to being friends. Big deal, right?
His body is so warm next to mine.
Big. Broad.
He feels so much taller now that his hand is around me, and I’m nestled under his armpit, something I hadn’t noticed before.
I shift, removing one hand from the wooden railing, sliding it around his hips, too, glancing up at him with a shy smile.
Shy smile? Ugh, who am I?
When you know, you know, my nanna always used to say. I’m not sure why her words are popping into my brain all of a sudden, but here we are, nanna on my mind. Love happens when you least expect it.
This isn’t love—of course it’s not—but it’s nice, and Eli is sweet and handsome and…has been giving me butterflies all damn day.
I tilt my chin up.
Smile again.
“What’s that look?” he finally asks after studying my face. “Are you okay?”
“What do you mean, what’s the look? This is my cute face.”
Duh.
How is he not taking the hint?
“Hmm,” he hums, head lolling to the side. “Your eyes look dilated.”
“Are you being serious right now?” Because I’m trying to set the mood so he’ll kiss me the way he almost did before. Except why is he acting so clueless now?
“Yeah, you look…” He leans in, our noses almost touching. “Well. It’s hard to describe.” His finger trails along my cheek. “These are pink. Are you running a fever?”
The invisible trail he’s leaving on my skin burns.
My breath hitches.
“Wait.” He inches back. “Is that look…are you…?” He leans in again so we’re eye to eye. “Are you trying to get me to kiss you, Miss Summervale?”
I swat at him.
“Oh my god, I hate you.” I laugh, trying to step away, embarrassment making my face go flush.
“I’m teasing you. Get back here, stop being stubborn.”
He pulls me into his chest, both hands wrapped around my waist, more bodily contact than I’ve had with anyone in since…since I don’t know when.
“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”
“No, I’m not.” I pout, trying to be even cuter. Wondering why we’re still talking and his lips aren’t on mine. Do I want him to kiss me because I’m stubborn, or do I want him to kiss me because it’s what my body wants?
Time will tell.
Eli and I assess one another, the sun going down in the distance making it harder to see him clearly.
“Thank you for being a good sport about this trip, Molly.”
The way he says my name…
“Thank you for having me. And planning it.”
Having me…
Kissing. Sex.
Now why would my brain automatically go there?