Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
My body turns to ice as it did in the car. It scares the shit out of me.
Before I can find my voice to respond to him, he adds quietly, "I’m not in that business anymore."
That business? What is that business? I grit my teeth. I fucking hate these secrets. I don’t like not knowing and turning a blind eye. "What do you mean?" I ask uncertainly. I feel meek. Only because I don’t know what he’s talking about, and I’m on the cusp of letting myself fall for a man who has another life I know nothing about. A life I don’t want to be a part of.
Seeing the anxiety clearly present on my face, Derek answers, “Sweetheart, please stop asking questions. I’ll tell you everything you need to know."
He reaches out and takes my hand, but the second he does the scampi comes, interrupting us and keeping his touch from calming me.
Need to know. I repeat the words in my head as the waiter sets the plate on the table.
It smells delicious, with lots of butter, and I’m starving; I haven’t eaten all day. I’ve been too nervous knowing I was going to see Derek again. But I’m not hungry at the thought of him doing whatever the hell it is that he does. My mind is going wild with speculations of what that “business” is.
“You know why I was drawn to you?” Derek breaks my thoughts as the waiter leaves us alone again.
“You had this sweetness about you. You didn’t let others ruin it.” His words take me back. My heart seemingly beating slower, and my body heating in the best of ways.
“I remember seeing that chick. She was a bitch.” He makes a face like he’s trying to remember her name, but it doesn’t come to him. “Some preppy bitch at school made fun of you because you had a knockoff purse.” I instantly know who he’s talking about. Scarlett Dubet, and it was a fake Dooney and Bourke my aunt had given me. And yeah, she was a bitch with a capital “B”.
“You just ignored her, but I knew it hurt you. Then a few weeks later, she dropped her purse in the parking lot as she was getting out of her car. All her shit went everywhere,” Derek says and gestures with his hands. “You didn't even hesitate to go over and help her pick her things up. All I could think was I need to meet that girl, because who wouldn't want someone that sweet in their life?" he tells me as he grabs my hand softly, moving it to the bit of space between us on the bench and staring into my eyes.
The air between us is so intense, I have to look away.
I can't believe he remembers that. I haven't thought about her in years, but yeah, I remember helping that bitch pick her books up. I hated how mean she always was. I know her clique talked about me behind my back too. I didn’t run in their circle, and I was okay with that, but all her stuff was getting soaked. There were still puddles all over from the morning rain. So yeah, I helped. I think anyone would have.
I swallow the lump growing in my throat. That was a few weeks before we first talked.
I also remember turning around to see him staring at my ass. Needing to lighten the mood, I call him on it.
"Oh really, is that what you were thinking? As I recall,” I pause to pull my hand away from his and grab my glass of wine, playing with the stem a bit before picking it up. “You were staring at my ass as I was bent over helping her," I say confidently before taking a sip of the sweet wine.
Derek laughs. God, I love the sound of his laugh. It’s rougher than it should be. Deeper and all man. I could listen to him laugh all day.
"Wow,” he says, shaking his head and picking up his own glass. “Here I am, being all romantic and sweet for you, and you have to go and ruin it," he says, pretending to be offended. I love this playful side of him. This is the man I want. The side of him I looked forward to all those years ago.
"Yeah, yeah. You just want to get a piece, just like you did back then," I say with a flirtatious grin.
“I can't believe you said that. You need to be punished for that smart mouth of yours.” His voice gets harder, carrying more than a hint of reprimand and my heart stammers. “Get underneath the table," he commands, his eyes piercing into me.
"What?" I ask, not believing what he just said. I can’t even breathe as he holds my gaze without blinking. He’s gotta be fucking kidding.