Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Hey. I can.” She straightened. “I’ll admit that it gets tiring doing everything myself, though. I miss having someone to come home to.”
And now you’re starting to sound pathetic.
He didn’t want to know about how lonely her life was, that was just depressing.
“What do you feel like for dinner? It’s my treat,” she told him.
If she lived on bakery leftovers for a few weeks, she could use her grocery money.
“Your treat?” he asked quietly.
“Yep. My turn to pay. The steak sounds good.” It sounded amazing and her mouth watered at the thought of it. But she’d need to grab the cheapest item. A garden salad. Yuck. Cobb salad. Getting better.
But she’d make sure he had whatever he wanted. He was a big guy, he needed plenty of fuel.
“Your treat?”
She realized he wasn’t repeating what she’d said because he hadn’t heard her the first time. Instead, he sounded like he was in complete disbelief.
“Uh, yeah. I’m paying.”
“In what world would you be paying?” he asked gruffly.
“It’s my turn.”
“Your. Turn,” he said the words slowly, as though he didn’t understand them.
“Because you paid for my sticky bun the other day. It’s turnabout, see?” How was he not getting this?
He simply stared down at her. “No.”
What? That was it? No?
“No, what? No, you don’t want me to pay?”
“Correct.”
“But it’s only fair—”
“Fair? It’s fair that you pay for a full meal when I bought you a sticky bun worth two dollars? That’s fair?”
“Uh, well. Next time we go out you can pay for the meal. Not that there needs to be a next time. I mean, I’m not saying there can’t be a next time. Or even that you have to pay. You’re under no obligation to take me—” He reached out and placed a finger over her lips.
Oh, thank God. It was about time he shut her up. She swore her mouth was a runaway train around him.
He made her so darn nervous.
“I’ll say this once. There will never be a time when you pay. We go out for a meal, I pay. We go do anything together, I pay. Got me?”
“That’s not how turnabout works,” she grumbled.
How was being dictated to like that so hot? It shouldn’t be and yet . . . she liked that he wanted to look after her.
Even if she wasn’t going to let him pay every time—that’s not how friendship worked. And that’s what this was, right?
“There is no turnabout. That’s the way things are. Do you want a starter?”
“Huh? Oh, no, I don’t need a starter,” she replied. “And you can’t pay for me all the time.”
“Can’t I? Who is going to stop me?”
She straightened her shoulders. “Me.”
His lips twitched as he slid the iced tea she’d ordered closer. “No, you’re not. Now, what are you eating?”
She sighed. “You’re a frustrating man to argue with.”
“That’s what we were doing? Arguing?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“You really object to me wanting to look after you?”
She stared at him as those words sunk in. “No, I’m not objecting to that. But looking out for me doesn’t mean me taking advantage of you.”
Shock filled his face. “You think that’s what you’re doing?”
“No, but I don’t want you to think that.” She ran a finger along the condensation on the glass of her iced tea that the server had delivered before running off again.
“Gracen, look at me.”
Yeah, she didn’t want to do that. He seemed to be able to convince her of anything when she was looking into those hazel-colored eyes. “Baby, I wouldn’t ever think that.”
Damn it. He was bringing out the big guns by calling her baby. She shifted around on her seat, still unable to meet his gaze. “It’s just obvious you have money, and I don’t, and I don’t want you to think that’s why I . . . why I’m here.”
She’d almost blurted out that she liked him. That was one way to have him running from her.
“You want me to give it all away?”
“W-what?” She gazed up at him.
He ran a finger down her cheek. “My money. Want me to get rid of it? Will that make you feel more comfortable?”
“What? No!” she protested even though she knew he had to be joking.
Although he wasn’t exactly the joking type . . . but that was silly.
“Of course I don’t.”
“But you feel like things are uneven because I have money and you don’t?” he asked matter-of-factly.
Their server approached, opening his mouth.
“We need a few more minutes,” Victor told him before he could speak.
“O-of course,” the guy stammered out. “T-take all the time you need.”
“I think you made him nervous.”
“I make everyone nervous. Except you.”
“You make me nervous,” she blurted out.
Idiot!
“But not in the same way,” he murmured, watching her closely. “How do I make you nervous, Gracen?”
Oh, hell.
She wasn’t going to tell him that.
Suddenly, she felt his hand brush against her thigh. Her breath caught, her eyes widening as a rush of arousal filled her.