Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I’m actually a pretty social creature—not usually the wallflower type.
But I also love moments like this one. Those rare moments, where you find unexpected little pockets of peace in noisy Manhattan. Moments where you’re not quite alone—I can see dozens of people through the windows, hear their laughter, hear the band—and yet you’ve found a place of stillness and solitude.
I close my eyes and just enjoy it—the sense of being a part of something and simultaneously apart. There’s a magic to it.
“May I join you?”
My eyes fly open, and of course—of course—it’s him that destroys the solitude.
“Sure,” I say, torn between resentment that my solitude was interrupted, and curiosity as to why he didn’t go running the other way the moment he spotted me.
“Are you following me?” I ask, eyes narrowed slightly.
“Yes, Mac,” Thomas says, his voice dry as dust as he pulls down a chair for himself. “I thought to myself, ‘I haven’t run into that woman nearly enough over the course of the past week, I must seek her out.’”
“Ha, ha,” I reply, my voice just as dry as his. “Seriously. Why are you out here?”
“Same reason as you, I suppose,” he says, setting his glass on the table and spinning it idly. “Fresh air. To take a moment.”
“What about your girlfriend?” I ask.
His gaze flicks up. “I don’t know that I’d call her that.”
I lift my eyebrows. “You bring a woman to your brother’s engagement party, but she’s not your girlfriend?”
“Our second date was Wednesday. We had a good time, so I asked her out on Friday, forgetting it was the night of Jon’s engagement party. I didn’t want to back out of the commitment, so I invited her.”
“Whew.” I fan myself. “Romantic.”
His jaw tenses. “At least my dates don’t stand me up.”
I flinch. “Touché.”
He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“Little bit.” I crunch a piece of ice between my molars.
He looks at me curiously. “The guy ever call? Text? Apologize in any way?”
“No.” I stare down at the lemon wedge bobbing in my drink. “But I barely knew him, so my heart’s still in one piece.” I tap the left side of my chest as I say it, and I swear his gaze lingers, just a bit.
“Is your heart often in pieces?”
“Oh, god no,” I reply, genuinely horrified. “I don’t really do that whole thing.”
He frowns in confusion. “What thing? Date?”
“I date a ton,” I say. “I just don’t let my heart get involved. Or rather, it’s not a matter of letting it so much as . . .” I shrug. It just never happens.
He blinks. “Ever?”
I shrug indifferently. “What about you?”
Thomas sips his drink. “What about me?”
“Does your heart get involved when you date?”
He lets out a low whistle. “We’ve gotten deep rather fast, haven’t we?”
“Well, our relationship is on an accelerated schedule.” I smile. He smiles back, just a little.
“So,” I prod, genuinely curious now. “Your heart?”
Thomas takes his time thinking. He takes his time with everything, as far as I can tell. “I think that’s the point of dating, isn’t it? To find someone you can get involved with, but won’t—how did you phrase it? Leave your heart in pieces?”
“Disagree,” I say confidently, shaking my head. “Or at least, that’s not the reason I date.”
“What’s your reason?”
I waggle my eyebrows suggestively, playfully, though the searing look he gives me in return is anything but playful, and I look quickly away, pretending fascination with the view of the city.
“So who was the guy?” Thomas asks after a minute. “The no-show?”
He sounds genuinely curious, so I shrug and answer truthfully. “A trainer at my gym.”
“I knew it. He did have a V-cut.”
I let out a regretful sigh. “I saw hints. But I’ll never get the chance to find out the real deal.”
“Overshare. But that’s your type, huh? Brawny beefcake?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You were actually pretty dead on with your guess that night. Bad boys make my knees weak. And if there are tattoos and a bit of facial hair scruff, I’m a total goner.”
“Even if the man can’t master the calendar or have the decency to let you know he can’t make it? Surely you can do better.”
Darn. And we were doing so well, and then he has to go and get all uppity.
I let my gaze cool. “Don’t let me keep you from rejoining your date. Boss.”
My snippy words are timed perfectly with the wind picking up, and I shiver a little, my camisole not providing any protection whatsoever against the chill.
Thomas pushes back his chair to stand, and I think he’s read my dismissal loud and clear. But he surprises the hell out of me by shrugging out of his suit jacket and holding it out for me to take.
“Oh!” I’m startled by the gesture. A little appalled, and a little something else too. Touched? “No, I’m okay, thanks.” My voice is almost panicked.