Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 120838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 604(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 604(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
“I thought we were discussing you being a bully when we were kids,” I reminded him.
Before he could answer, the server came with our drinks (for your edification, Dair, an ale, me, their Garden Variety Gimlet, though take it from me, it wasn’t garden variety at all).
The server left and Dair took us right back to it.
“I was a boy who liked to be outside, and I was too young to realize ye simply didnae. I was told to entertain ye, and the fun shite I knew to do was all outside. You didnae like how cold it was. You complained about the rain. You didnae like horses—”
“I love horses,” I stated hotly, because…I did. Even back then.
“You turned your nose up at them.”
“I was scared of them. They were huge, Dair. You guys bred Clydesdales.”
“They’re still just horses.”
I picked up my drink and mumbled, “Oh my God, I can’t believe we’re discussing this.”
“I think it’s pertinent, since I intend to spend vastly more time with you and you told me when we were wee, ye thought I treated you like shit.”
Vastly more?
My heart skipped a beat.
“Blake,” he growled, taking my mind off my heart.
“Okay, do you want the honesty?” I demanded.
“Always.”
“I’d just had a conversation with my mother. Never fun. But it was about the fact your family was not invited to the rehearsal dinner.”
“Ah,” he said, sitting back in his side of the booth with his beer.
“I’m not being rude,” I asserted. “That event isn’t for friends of the family. It’s for people in the wedding party and close family. Furthermore, Alex left me in charge of the planning, and Mum horning in to do things I knew Alex wouldn’t want exasperated me. Something you know, Alex prefers smaller numbers. Add to that, I knew the reason Mum invited you was so she could be around Bally, and that’s just gross. So maybe I transferred some of all I was feeling and worrying about on you. For that, I apologize. You’re right. When we were kids, we had different interests. You were doing your best. I was uncomfortable because back then I was always uncomfortable, but then I knew about your dad and my mum and that made it more uncomfortable. And that’s just that.”
“That is that, love,” he said gently. “And I’m glad we’ve gone over it.”
It just sucked how awesome he was.
Uncomfortable, even difficult conversation, we had it, we said what we had to say, we were honest, and then we were done, and he ended it with his lovely brogue all gentle.
He was impossible.
“Thrilled for you that you’re glad,” I mumbled and took a sip of my own drink.
He chuckled.
Completely impossible.
I was saved from responding by the server putting the devilled eggs in front of us.
“Thank you,” I said to her.
“No problems,” she replied and took off.
I went for an egg.
Dair went in after me.
“They source local,” I told him as he took a bite. “And just to say, you chose well with the chicken pot pie for your main.”
He winked at me.
That was so hot, my heart stuttered to a complete halt.
“Glad you approve,” he said through egg while I restarted my heart. He swallowed and pointed at the remaining portion (why they didn’t serve four for two people, I didn’t know, restaurants had a knack for odd numbers, and it drove me batty—I mean, it made sense to give four portions, two eggs, halved, equaled four, for goodness sake). “And that was bloody magnificent,” he finished.
Why did it delight me he liked my favorite restaurant in Prescott?
“You eat the second one,” I told him after I consumed mine. “I got the pork tenderloin, which is going to be heavy, and you eat like a linebacker.”
“I eat like a tighthead prop,” he corrected.
“Whatever,” I muttered.
He grinned at me and took the last egg.
I felt something funny and looked across the restaurant.
A man was staring at me.
When he caught my eye, he smiled.
I knew that kind of smile, and fortunately (this time) it wasn’t one that told me he’d seen me somewhere on social media in all my glory tearing Chad a new asshole at our wedding or some other hijinks I’d gotten up to.
But unfortunately, it was an even worse kind in this scenario.
For God’s sake, he was with a woman, and I was with a man.
I glared at him, shifting my eyes pointedly to the woman he was with and back to him before I turned again to Dair.
But he was looking over his shoulder at the man.
And then he was putting his napkin on the table and sliding out of the booth.
Dear Lord, what was he doing?
“Dair.” He couldn’t help but hear me (this was a tiny place), but he didn’t pause in moving toward the man’s table. “Alasdair!” I snapped, trying not to be too loud but needing to stop him.