Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Then, Sawyer reaches around and snags my mug, fills it with coffee, and knocks back a big gulp.
“You sneak! You set me up!”
With a smug smile he puts down the mug and smacks his lips. “You don’t want me to drive without caffeine, do you?”
“It’s seven-thirty in the morning! You’re wide awake!”
He sweeps out an arm toward the coffeepot. “And you have more coffee from a man who’s too crazy about you to admit it.”
Then he wheels around and takes off on a bigger mic drop than last night’s clamjam.
I’m still a little buzzed from Sawyer’s parting shot as I walk through town for my own exercise. As the summer air wraps around me, I turn over a slate of new questions in my head as I pass Downward Dog All Day.
Is Monroe crazy about me? He did draw me a ladybug. And brewed me coffee. And brought me a hair tie yesterday. And a lavender eye mask the other night. And rented me a limo before that. And joined me at breakfast with my mom one morning. And saved me from the cheese douche last week.
And called me a masterpiece.
On the one hand, he treats me like, well, like a man should treat a woman. On the other hand, he’s gone on the record that he’s not keen on relationships.
Why should I believe his actions more than his words? Just because I want to? That’s foolish, even when his actions speak so loudly.
I want to believe them so badly it hurts. I rub my hand against my sternum as I near the lavender farm, drawn by the alluring scent and my new friend, who’s outside setting up a big wooden sign listing the farm’s hours.
“Hey, city girl,” Ripley says, adjusting the placement of the white and lavender sign on the emerald-green grass. Her inked arms are strong.
“Nice guns,” I say, admiring her.
“Thanks,” she says, glancing at her toned biceps like she just noticed them. “I guess lugging signs and stuff for years has an effect. What’s going on with you?”
That’s the question, isn’t it? But I think I know the answer. “Oh, you know, just stupidly falling for a guy who’s not really available.”
She gives me a sympathetic look as she dusts one hand against the other. “Really?”
I wince. “I think so.”
“You think you’re falling for him, or you think he’s unavailable?”
I tackle the first question since it’s easier. “I’m definitely falling for him. In just a few short days. Though, in my dumb heart’s defense, I sort of fell for him eight years ago right here in this town.”
An eyebrow lifts. “Details.”
I check the time. I need to get back to see Luna Ferrara, the realtor, but I also need to process all my feels, so I give a condensed version of the past and the present.
Ripley listens attentively, nodding as I talk, then when I’m done, she asks, “So he got you a lavender eye mask when you had a headache? But was it one of mine? Because The Slippery Dipper carries mine. And if it was mine that means…extra points.”
I laugh, flashing back to that night. “Come to think of it, it probably came from your lavender farm.”
“Then, maybe talk to him about it.”
Nerves fly through my body. “That sounds terrifying.”
“Yup.”
On that note, I turn to go, a plan coming together as I walk. Functional fitness indeed.
A couple of hours later, Monroe and I see Luna to the door and thank her for her time. “We appreciate you taking this on so quickly,” Monroe says.
“And I appreciate your business.” The realtor is a curvy woman with olive skin and a friendly smile. “This house will be so fun to list.”
She takes off, and when the door closes, Monroe looks at his watch. “If memory serves, you have one more date. We should do that tonight.”
He sounds businesslike, and I get it. We said three dates with three men at the start of this experiment. Monroe’s simply sticking to the plan.
But what if we could have more than three dates? What if we could have dates that go beyond this week? Nights together in San Francisco? Perhaps, I’ll use this last date to show my podcast co-host the sort of fun we can have together and then feel him out about all these pesky feelings. We’ve grown closer with each of our dates, stripping down our defenses, but we needed those costumes to get there. It’ll be easier for me to broach the big, scary topic while we’re still in experiment mode.
“Let’s do it.” We head to the back porch, where I open the Date Night app and thumb through prospects as if I’m simply hunting. But I quickly land on the guy I found during my walk back to the house. I take a quiet, steadying breath. With fingers metaphorically crossed, I swallow my nerves and ask, “How about this one?”