Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Is she aware of it?” Nora asks.
“Yeah… did it last night, but she immediately caught herself. She apologized.”
“That’s good,” Nora commends, taking a pause to sip her beer. “I guess I’d advise you to also have her toe the line. Seems like she realizes it’s not quite fair to judge you based on your own celebrity status. I’d actually advise you not to let her get away with it if she continues to do so.”
I nod, accepting her reasoning. It’s a delicate balance, I’m guessing, to show her the man I want to be as I continue to explore something with her but doing so without apology for my fame and fortune. It’ll be up to me to show her someone can have all that, yet still respect women.
I tip my beer back, finishing it off before pushing out of the swing. “Listen… I appreciate the advice, but I have to get going. Like I said, hot date tonight.”
Tacker stands, then walks me to the edge of the porch. Bringing a big hand down on my shoulder, he squeezes. “Look… I didn’t mean to give you such a hard time. Got to be honest, this is all shocking, but it also warms my heart. I figured you’d fall one day, and I knew I’d enjoy watching it.”
“I haven’t fallen yet,” I point out, still desiring to maintain a healthy grasp on realism.
“You’re definitely tottering, Aaron.”
And yeah… I guess I am.
CHAPTER 12
Clarke
When my doorbell rings, I take one last look in my mirror, wondering for the hundredth time if should I ditch the glasses.
Then I decide I’d like to be able to read. I don’t feel like dealing with my contacts because I’m so used to my glasses, so Aaron’s just going to have to take me as I am.
“Ugh,” I mutter, knowing I’m being insane and worrying far too much about the man at my front door.
He asked me to give him the benefit of the doubt, so I’m going to have to put a little trust in that request. It’s easier said than done, though, when I worry far too much about maybe ending up hurt.
I spritz on a little bit of DKNY’s Be Delicious perfume, wondering if the apple fragrance is too immature for a man such as him, but then decide it fits my childish inability to stop worrying about whether he can truly like a woman who wears glasses.
Moving quickly through my house, I glance down to make sure I have shoes on. I do.
White Keds, which I think look cute and sporty with my cuffed-at-the-hem jeans and a blue-and-white striped shirt with three-quarter sleeves. It’s going to be a casual evening of visiting an outdoor art exhibit and eating truck food, so I went with super casual.
I swing the door open, preparing for the flutter within me at the first sight of Aaron. He looks far yummier in jeans and a t-shirt than he does dressed up, and our casual attire actually makes me feel more comfortable. I don’t like putting on airs and expensive designer finery just isn’t who I am.
Aaron’s gaze quickly sweeps down my body, then back up, landing on my face with a sly grin. “My apologies for being so bold.”
My eyebrows shoot together in confusion. “So bold? What do you mean?”
He shows rather than answers me, hands going to my face to hold me in place as he bends to give me a swift, but sizzling kiss. When he pulls back, my glasses are askew and I have to push them back into place. My eyesight remains a bit blurry, but I suspect it’s because the kiss was just that good.
Last night after dinner, he kissed me goodnight at my doorstep. It wasn’t a peck on the cheek like the last time, but it was slightly deeper than when he first gave me that surprise kiss at Erik and Blue’s wedding. It was enough that I had regretted not shaving my legs, but also left me glad when he walked away because anticipation is half the fun.
“You sure are confident of yourself,” I mutter as he steps back.
“Sorry I was so overwhelming.” Aaron chuckles, turning to offer his arm. I grab my purse, step out, and lock the door behind me. When I lock my arm into his and he leads me down the porch, he adds, “But you look really great tonight. You look quintessential Clarke.”
I glance up as we head for his truck. “What does that even mean?”
“I like you all casual with your hair up in a bouncy ponytail,” he replies, his gaze flicking down. “In jeans and sneakers. You appear up for an adventure, and you sort of have this fun vibe about you. I like the way it makes me feel.”
His words hit me in a way that actually makes me stumble. He halts our progress, shifting to face me. “You okay?”