Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
With a sigh, I take another sip of smoothie to hide the suddenly weird emotions that overcome me. Does he flirt with everyone? Or did I misjudge the entire situation, thinking he was even flirting with me?
I continue eating my salad in silence, nursing dejection, when a deep voice catches my attention. “Is this seat taken?”
I look up, my heart soaring in my chest at the sight of Mac, his hand on the chair across from me. He gives me that grin that makes my belly flop.
“Sorry,” I say with a pretend sad smile. “That one’s reserved for my imaginary mate, Stella.”
He blinks, and his brows shoot up, then he sobers and shakes his head. He places his plate down in front of me, then lifts the chair and pretends to empty my imaginary friend right off it.
“Out you go, Stella,” he mutters. “My imaginary friend Brandon’s hitting on women at the pub across the way, go tell him to behave himself and buy you dinner.” He does a little shooing motion, and I can’t help but giggle.
He folds himself into the chair across from me with surprising grace for such a big bloke, and smiles at me. I’m wiping my mouth with my napkin, still giggling.
“Poor Stella, how’d you know she hasn’t had a date in a decade?”
He winks, and my heart does funny, fluttery things.
“Just had an inkling, you could say. But I’m glad she left so I could sit with you.” He grimaces at the rainbow of colors on my plate. “How’s that salad?”
“Delicious,” I tell him with a flourish. I take a large bite of veggies to underscore my statement. “And yours?”
He swallows a mammoth bite of chicken, crunches a piece of blue-cheese-dipped-celery, and grins.
“Excellent. So tell me, what brings you here today?”
I nod toward my shop up the street.
It’s so odd having a normal conversation with a man. I so rarely do it. The first date I ever had, and damn near every date since, was arranged by my father. The only time I ever dated a guy that wasn’t a friend of the family, he ended up finding out who I was and what my father did, and never replied to my texts or called me back. I’m terribly inexperienced in the art of seduction or flirtation.
I quickly shove the memories away and flash Mac a smile. “Just on a lunch break.” For some reason, I feel the need to tell him about where I actually work and what I actually do. “I work at a nearby boutique.”
I wish I could tell him more. My shop’s my baby. My pride and joy. I try to keep it less flowery and sentimental, but he might see in my eyes how much the boutique means to me.
“Where?” he asks, taking another bite of his food.
I shrug. “Oh. Just a little boutique nearby.”
He smiles at me and tips his head to the side, curious. “Is it a secret, then?”
I feel my cheeks heat.
“Not exactly.”
It is absolutely a secret.
My father will find out eventually, but I’d rather he not know until I’m successful.
“C’mon, then,” Mac says with another one of those damn smiles. He’s turning on the full blast of his charm and I… well, I like it. “We’ve been fast friends for a full ten minutes, doesn’t that count for anything?”
I don’t tell him that the sad part is, yes, it actually does. I don’t care if this man is hot, I don’t care if he’s friendly and cordial. I’m so lonely, sometimes it makes me ache inside. It’s nice sitting across from someone who’s actually interested in… me.
I sit up straighter. “I work at Cherry Blossoms.”
“Ah, the little boutique in town that does the custom dresses? I heard my sisters talking about that.”
Had he?
I swallow, trying to hide my surprise. “It is.”
“I can’t believe I actually remembered,” he says with a laugh. “And where do you get your designs from?”
I blink in surprise. “Oh! Gosh, I do them myself.”
He puts his fork down, leans back in his chair, and crosses one ankle over his knee. Clearly impressed. I melt a little bit more.
“Are you kidding me? Oh, c’mon, no one designs clothes these days. Do you really?”
“Gosh, now why would I make something up like that?”
He shrugs, his eyes twinkling again as he takes another large bite of chicken. He chews, then swallows. “I know literally nothing about designs, so I’m just talking out of my arse. But damn, lassie, I’m impressed. Tell me about your designs.”
I know he’s hitting on me, I know it. But it’s hard to resist the urge of telling all, when I’m not sure if he really cares.
“Well, you don’t really need to hear those details,” I say with a self-deprecating laugh.
He tips his head to the side and sobers a little. For some reason, the look he’s giving me makes my heart pound a little faster, like he wants to lecture me or something. He seems stern all of a sudden.