Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
I love her ability to bring me to my knees with her quick wit, and I love that she knows when I need her to sit on my lap and let me hold her, breathing in her scent and empathy after a hard day.
I love her personality—feisty and intelligent—how it kept me on my toes. And I love her smile, her sultry eyes, and her full lips.
Christ . . . I . . . I love her.
Hunter raps his knuckles on my wooden top desk. “Uh, hello in there. Were you even listening to me?”
I shake my head and rub my hand down my face, the three-day-old stubble growing into an actual beard. “No, I’m not listening to you because whatever you’re saying is probably going to torture me, and I don’t want to hear about it. Just give me the notes and move on.”
After every visit with Peyton, Hunter makes his first stop here in the office to torture me with details about how amazing Peyton is.
Newsflash: I fucking know, and I’m the dipshit who screwed it up.
“You’re right.” Hunter reaches into his pocket and pulls out a protein bar. Unwraps, chomps, chews. The crinkling sound makes me want to drive my head into the wall. “I would have told you that she looked sad today. Her ‘I’m okay’ façade has worn off, and she’s lacking the brilliance in her eyes.”
Fuck.
I can’t handle the image in my head. A sullen Peyton, barely getting through the meeting, that spark she carries, dulled and masked.
Fuck, I’m a moron.
“She didn’t even order a drink this time.”
“What?” I snap my head at Hunter. “Why?”
“Said she wasn’t thirsty or hungry. Didn’t stop me from eating a croissant and licking my fingers afterward.”
“Shit,” I mumble and lean back in my chair.
Hunter exhales and props his ankle up on his knee. “Dude, what’s stopping you from saying you’re sorry?”
“I already said I was sorry, but she walked away.”
“Don’t be a moron. Of course she walked away. You hurt her, big time. And mind you, I told you not to blow up, and look what you did.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“Seriously though, what are you waiting for? You look like shit; she looks like shit. You clearly miss her, so go grovel at her feet.”
“It’s not that easy,” I answer, staring at the wallpaper on my computer screen. It’s a picture Peyton took of us at Serendipity. She’s sitting on my lap, arm wrapped around my neck as I kiss her cheek, the smile on her face so gorgeous.
“Why not?”
“Because she wouldn’t even say yes to moving in with me—”
“Because she wanted a grand gesture, not some bullshit statement that you guys should move in together.” Hunter snaps his finger and lowers his foot, inching closer to my desk. “Pull up Pinterest. I bet we could find some good ideas on how to win her back.”
“I’m not looking at goddamn Pinterest.” I push back from my desk, and pace my office, rubbing the back of my neck. My mind whirls but not with ideas, with worry. What if I’ve waited too long? What if she doesn’t want me back?
Head bent forward, completely deflated, I say, “I love her, Hunter.”
“I know, so what are you going to do about it?”
Turning toward him, I eye my computer again, her infectious joy reminding me where we started . . .
“I think I have an idea.”
Hunter rubs his hands together and leans forward. “Oh, my nips just got hard. Lay it on me.”
I really need to get a new best friend.
* * *
Hunter suggested I clean myself up before I try to win Peyton back, and I think he was right, for once. I didn’t shave, kind of liking the scruff, but I trimmed it up so it didn’t look like a truck just dragged me down nine miles of bumpy road. I chose to wear a pair of black jeans and a gray V-neck sweater with a white shirt underneath it. Peyton always said she loves me in my business clothes, but it’s my “street” clothes that really turn her on.
Fuck, I’m nervous.
I’ve never had to win a girl back. I’ve never been interested enough to put in the effort, but Peyton is worth every single second of my time.
Sitting at a restaurant across from the coffee house, I have the perfect view of her. Dressed in jeans and a simple blue sweater, brown boots up to her knees, she looks so good. The minute I laid eyes on her, knowing she’s so close, I felt the beat of my heart wanting to erupt out of my chest.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I pull up the email I put together and give it one more look, tweaking it until I’m comfortable.
I glance at Peyton again. Her nose is buried in her computer working diligently, a cup of coffee next to her. What did she get today? A latte? She favors those more, but when she’s in dire need of caffeine, she goes for the espresso. Does she need caffeine today like I need it, to help combat the sleepless nights I’ve had?