Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Meet me in the kitchen when you’re done getting ready,” he says right before he disappears into the closet, coming out a minute later with a shirt in his hand. He doesn’t say anything as he walks by me to leave the room, but his fingers graze across my stomach the way they did the first day we met. It leaves something warm sitting in the pit of my stomach as I put on my bra.
Pulling my shirt on, I head for his bathroom, noticing the toothbrush I bought when I was staying with him is still in the holder. I use it quickly before taking a brush to my hair and putting on some ChapStick. I didn’t really dress up for work today, so I figure my outfit of dark jeans, a red, long-sleeved, scoop-neck shirt, and my black, leather booties that match my jacket is casual enough for whatever we end up doing.
As soon as I’m done straightening myself out, I head to the kitchen, where Sage is already waiting with his back to me and his head bent as he flips through a stack of mail in front of him. Standing unnoticed, I take a second to enjoy the view of his ass in the jeans he has on and the way the dark green Henley he changed into fits him like a second skin, showing off the muscles in his arms and back. When he turns to face me, I realize that the back view may be good, but the front is even better. His shirt is molded to his wide chest, and the deep green of his shirt makes his eyes even more phenomenal, if that’s even possible.
“Ready?” he asks, and I nod, letting him lead me with his hand against my lower back to the front of the house. Grabbing my jacket at the front door, I put it on then take his hand when he offers it. He closes the door behind us and locks up, then takes me to the passenger side door and helps me in.
I buckle up while he walks around the hood and slides in behind the wheel. “Where are we going?” I ask as he turns on the car and reverses out of the yard.
“There’s a few places nearby. Do you feel like having Mexican, Italian, or American?” he inquires, and I wonder which one of those will have the best menu for my new diet. Deciding on Mexican, he drives us to a small strip mall that has a nail place, a donut shop, and a Mexican restaurant in it. He parks near the front door and shuts down the engine, unhooking his belt before opening his door.
Getting out, I meet him at the hood where he takes my hand. The smell of spices and meat hits me when we walk through the door, and my stomach growls again. “Holy cow, look at that,” I say, pointing out a picture of the guy from Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives standing with a very pretty petite Mexican woman. “Now I’m even more hungry,” I admit, and he laughs, tucking me under his arm. I’m not lying; every time I watch that show, my mouth waters and I wish I could be there eating the food, so I’m super excited to experience something from the show firsthand.
“Sit anywhere, you two. Someone will be with you in a moment,” a woman says, and Sage nods before leading me to a booth in the back of the small restaurant.
Sliding across the leather seat, I smile at him as he takes a seat across from me and scans the room—my guess, looking for danger. “Anyone suspicious?” I whisper, and his eyes come to me.
“Habit.” He laughs, and I grin at him.
“Hello, my friends. What can I get you two to drink?” a man asks, coming up to the table and placing menus in front of us.
“Water, with lemon please,” I request, and he nods at me before looking at Sage.
“Beer, whatever you got in a bottle that’s cold.”
“All right, I’ll be back.” He half bows at us before taking off toward the back of the restaurant, coming back a second later with a basket of chips and a bowl of salsa, setting them on the table before leaving again. Picking up a chip, I dunk it in the salsa and take a bite, and my eyes widen.
“Hot?”
“God, yes.” I fan my mouth then grab my water when the waiter sets it down in front of me. I don’t even care how bad I look chugging from the glass. My mouth is on fire.
“Did I give you the hot one?” the waiter asks, and I blink away the tears leaking from my eyes. I don’t know if it’s the hot one, but it is hot.