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)
Thomas returns in record time, probably because he beat the lunch rush, and hesitates a moment when he sees my table set-up, but when I lift my eyebrows in silent challenge, he takes a seat.
We unwrap our food, peeling back foil, popping soda can tabs, and tearing open plastic utensil bags, all without saying a word. And for some reason, the whole situation reminds me of an old-fashioned standoff in a Wild West town, only with burritos instead of pistols. The visual makes me laugh.
“What?” He takes a bite of burrito and glares at me.
“Nothing.” Then I change my mind and tell him anyway about our imaginary burrito duel.
Thomas chews and says nothing, and my smile fades a little that my peace offering is being shut down. Then he whistles a tune, that’s so spot-on Western that I laugh again.
His smile is more reluctant, but definitely present.
“So, what kind of burrito guy are you?” I ask, after taking a bite and swallowing.
“I’m sorry?” Thomas wipes his mouth.
I point with my burrito to his. “Steak? Chicken? Veggie?”
“Ah. Chorizo. Habanero salsa, and I tell them not to be shy with it.”
“Habanero,” I repeat. “The super-hot one?”
He meets my eyes. “You sound surprised.”
“Well.” I chew a bite methodically and take a sip of my soda. “Yes. I confess I had you pegged more as a . . .”
He lifts his eyebrows in question.
“I didn’t think you’d go for spicy,” I admit.
Thomas takes his time, setting down his burrito, taking a sip of his sparkling water, as he leans forward and captures my gaze. “I like it hot.”
I freeze in place. Something about the way he says it, the way he’s looking at me, makes me think he’s not talking about salsa. And even more surprising than this unexpected side of Thomas is my reaction.
Now I feel suspiciously hot, and it has nothing to do with my salsa, which is mild.
Then I see it. Just the tiniest of smirks that he covers quickly, but not quickly enough. He knew exactly what he was doing.
I keep my features schooled in indifference, because I don’t even want to think about the fact that I was temporarily very attracted to him, much less talk about it.
“So. What did you think of the call this morning?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “It’s our lunch break, let’s not talk about work. Did you see my note about the room block at the Vermont hotel? We’re all good.”
“Right, yep. Thanks for taking care of that.” I make a confused face. “Though, I’m a little unclear. As the lone single girl, what should I do? Do I announce that when I book? Wear a scarlet S for Single? Or Sad? I just hope they know to put me on the opposite side of the building from all the happy couples so I don’t drag down the mood. Better yet, I think there’s a barn on the property. Perhaps I sleep there.”
“I get it, Mac,” he says, using a napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth. “I should have stayed out of your business. I told you I was sorry about that.”
I burst out laughing. “No, you did not!”
His smile is crooked. “I didn’t apologize?”
“Not even close.”
“Ah. Well.” Thomas picks up his burrito again. “I do apologize. I meant well. When Jon and Collette mentioned making it a couples weekend, I thought of . . .”
“Sad, single me.”
He sighs and sets his burrito down. “I was thinking more that odd numbers are sometimes tricky.”
“That is so you to think that. But rest assured, Mr. Even Numbers. Maybe I’m planning on bringing someone.”
His eyes flash with . . . something. “V-cut?”
I shrug.
He starts to pick up his food again, then stops. “How was last night? He turn out to be the love of your life?”
“Not all of us declare eternal love after three dates.”
“I take it that’s an unsubtle dig at my relationship with Anna, and the fact that I brought her to Jon’s engagement party?”
“I really didn’t mean it to be a dig,” I say honestly. “You and I just approach things differently. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“As I recall, we were both on the same dating app.”
“And look how well that went,” I say. Then I frown. “Actually, why were you on that app?” I ask, because it’s been bothering me, especially now that I know he was almost going to marry that Janie woman. “I mean, you know that TapThat is more about . . .”
“Sex.”
I shift in my chair. “Right. Yeah.”
He blows out a breath. “Off the record? Not as your boss?”
I nod, and he leans forward. “I have sex, Mac. And I like it.”
I choke on a piece of rice.
He leans back once more, way more nonchalant about the conversation than me, which is jarring. I’m supposed to be the cool one!