Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
The server’s eyes flick between us, and she smiles. “Perfect. I’ll put these right in.”
As soon as she’s gone, the tension snaps back, electric and hungry. I reach for my drink and take a healthy slug before turning to Preston.
“Okay, your turn.” I say it fast, desperate to shift the spotlight. “Why Worthington Hills? You don’t seem like a small-town guy.”
He rolls up his sleeves a little further, the motion casual but devastatingly sexy. “Grew up in LA, but it stopped feeling like home a long time ago. Too crowded. Too fake. Jude, my business partner and best friend since college, is from here. He sold me on the ‘peace and quiet, slow down your life’ thing. I bought in. Plus, the architecture scene here is wild. You get to build the future instead of trying to live in someone else’s shadow.”
I nod. “That makes sense. But don’t you miss it? The ocean? The chaos?”
He shrugs, but I see something flicker in his eyes. “Not really. I fell in love with Worthington Hills the first moment I visited.” He looks at me, suddenly serious. “It was the best decision I ever made.”
He’s quieter than I expected. Like there’s more underneath, and I want to find out what it is.
I expect the conversation to get awkward or to stall out, but it never does. He asks about my favorite books, and I go on a three-minute rant about why Persuasion is criminally underrated compared to Pride and Prejudice, and he listens, really listens, and doesn’t even pretend to be bored.
He tells me about his worst client ever—an oil baron who wanted a real movie studio to make videos with his much younger wife—and how his partner almost got them blacklisted. Evidently, their difficult client took offense when his wife blatantly flirted with Jude during a business dinner.
“That had to be a sticky situation,” I tell him.
“It was.” Preston laughs. “Jude had to start taking dates with him to all business dinners until some other guy caught the wife’s wandering eye.”
The food arrives, and my taste buds wake up for the first time all week. The steak is melt-in-your-mouth tender, and the mac and cheese is so creamy I have to restrain myself from eating the entire skillet in three bites.
He watches me eat, eyes twinkling. “You weren’t joking about being hungry.”
I dab my mouth with a napkin. “I never lie about food. That’s sacred.”
He leans closer. “What else don’t you joke about?”
Is it possible to combust from a single question? Because I think I just did. “A lot of things,” I say. “Like, for instance, you’re the hottest guy I’ve ever been on a date with, and it’s a little intimidating.”
His eyes widen, then he laughs, deep and genuine. “That’s good. Because you intimidate the hell out of me, Hazel.”
“Me?”
He nods. “You’re smart, funny, and you actually care about people. That’s rare.” His hand finds mine between our dishes, warm and a little callused. He gives my fingers a gentle squeeze. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you were the most interesting woman I’ve ever met.”
I try to hold his gaze, but it’s too much. Instead, I focus on his hand, big and steady around mine. It’s a good hand. Safe. Capable.
When dessert rolls around, the server brings us chocolate lava cake with two spoons, and we both pretend we’re not planning to eat the whole thing.
He feeds me the first bite, which should be cheesy but is actually the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced. Maybe it’s the way he watches my lips, or the way he licks the spoon after, but I am perilously close to inviting him back to my place right now.
After the check, we step outside. It’s gotten dark, and the early summer air is heavy and sweet. We walk through the packed parking lot hand in hand. When we reach his black SUV, he unlocks it, but instead of opening my door, he turns to face me.
There’s a beat where neither of us speaks, just this thick, loaded silence. Then he steps in, so close I feel the warmth of his body, inhale the scent of him—dark and expensive and male.
He brushes a curl from my cheek and tucks it behind my ear. “I can’t wait another second to kiss you,” he murmurs, and it’s the sexiest sentence in the English language.
He lowers his head, slow and deliberate, giving me time to change my mind. I don’t. His mouth covers mine, warm and gentle and sure, and I melt into it. He deepens the kiss, tongue teasing the seam of my lips, and I open for him because I have zero self-control and also because I want him to consume me.
It’s a mind-blowing kiss. A phenomenal, earth-shattering, ruin-you-for-all-other-men kind of kiss.
When he finally pulls away, I am breathless and a little dizzy.