Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
I take two steps, drop my elbows to the kitchen counter, and rest my face in my hands. I want to cry, not because I’m sad, but because I’m so mad at myself. I should have…. I don’t know what I should have done, but I should have known Braxton wasn’t who he claimed to be. I should have read between the lines and trusted my gut.
The moment I saw you, I wanted you.
Who says something like that? What kind of man even thinks something like that, let alone acts on it? Probably the same kind of man who wears a suit like second skin, drives a G-class Benz, and has a standing reservation at a place like Altura.
My phone ringing from the bathroom pulls me from my thoughts, and I suck in a breath before I push away from the counter. By the time I reach my cell, it’s no longer ringing, but there’s a missed call from Jamie on the screen. I don’t want to call him back. I’m sure he’s talked to Maggie and is wondering what the hell happened to me, but knowing he’s worried forces me to dial his number.
“Dakota, what the fuck,” he says in greeting, and I close my eyes.
“What the fuck what?” I ask, trying not to let him hear in my tone everything I’m feeling.
“I talked to Maggie. She told me you stood up your date, and then I haven’t been able to get a hold of you. I was two minutes away from calling the cops, since the fucking people at your building wouldn’t let me up to check on you.”
Damn, I’m glad I didn’t give him a key. “There’s no need to come check on me. I’m fine. I just...” God, I hate lying to him. “I just couldn’t go through with meeting the guy she wanted me to… so I stood him up and….”
“You don’t need to explain that to me. I was just worried about you,” he says quietly then asks, “Are you home?”
“Yeah.” I look around my bathroom, noting the sheet from my bed on the floor. I pick it up and take it with me to my bed, and with my phone in one hand, I rip the fitted sheet from the mattress and take it to the washer just beyond the kitchen.
“Do you want to eat dinner with me tonight before my show? I could get Chinese and bring it to you.” My stomach turns as I shove my sheets into the washer.
“I have some work I need to do before Monday.” It’s not a lie. One of the products I will be selling Monday on air is making me nervous, since it’s a product that hasn’t been on the market long and how much I sell could determine if I get more well-known brands. “How about breakfast tomorrow?”
“Breakfast?” he asks like he’s never heard of it before as I dump detergent into the machine.
I smile, knowing he is never up before noon after a show. “Okay, brunch—a late brunch.”
“All right,” he gives in, and I hear him let out a breath. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I close the lid on the washer, listening to it start. “I’m sure. Call me when you’re up tomorrow, and let me know where you want to meet.”
“All right, love you.”
I smile at that and head to the kitchen, seeing the cup of coffee there. “Love you too.” I hang up then dump what’s left in the cup in the sink, grabbing a spoon from the drawer and my ice cream from the freezer. I take it with me to the couch and look over the back to the city just outside the window as I flip off the top. I scoop out one bite after another, letting the cold chocolate melt against my tongue and knowing it’s time for me to give up on the idea of the white picket fence and Mr. Right.
Chapter 4
Dakota
AN ANNOYING RINGING wakes me, and I fumble for my phone on my side table and force one eye open, trying to figure out how to shut it off. When I see the screen is black and realize the ringing isn’t coming from my cell, I groan then roll out of bed. I stumble to the kitchen and press the green light that is flashing on the wall near the door, and my voice comes out raspy as I say, “Hello.”
“Ms. Newton, are you available to receive a delivery?” a man asks, and I frown, glancing at the clock. A delivery at ten till eight on a Sunday?
“Can I ask what it is?”
“Flowers.” He pauses then adds, “Lots of flowers.”
Braxton. I close my eyes and sigh. “I’m available.”
“We’ll be right up.” The line goes dead.
Figuring I have a few minutes, I head for my closet and change into a pair of high-waisted leggings and a sports bra then grab a hoodie. I put it on before grabbing my running shoes. Just as I finish tying them, there is a knock on the door, and as soon as I pull it open, my eyes widen.