Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
He grinned. “Because I met you.”
I chuckled. “Smooth, Hayes, smooth. I can see why you don’t have a hard time getting women. The bullshit flows easily.” I wiped my mouth. “But I should get back behind the bar. Dad needs to get off his feet.”
“You stay here all night by yourself?”
“It’s a cop bar. Nobody gives me any trouble.”
“Cop bar?”
“Well, cops and firemen.” I pointed to each of the ten guys sitting at the bar. “Cop. Cop. Cop. Fireman. Cop. Fireman. Fireman. Cop. Cop. Cop. My dad worked the first precinct for thirty years. It’s a few blocks away. He retired a captain. But he’s fourth-generation NYPD, and one of my older brothers is NYPD. The other is FDNY.”
“Damn. That sounds like a lot of guns pointed my way if I do something wrong.”
I slid out of the booth and stood. “Thank you for dinner.”
Wilder followed. He reached for my hand and laced our fingers together. “Let me take you out.”
As tempting as it was—as tempting as he was—my gut told me it wasn’t a good idea. “I don’t think so. I’m going to stick to my moratorium.”
“How long does it last?”
“A year. I have six months left.”
He smiled. “So Ryan’s wedding then?”
“Is that who’s getting married next?”
He stood and kissed my cheek. “Nope. That’s whose wedding is in six months when your moratorium is up. I’ll wait.”
“You’re going to wait six months for me to potentially go out with you?”
Wilder rocked back on his heels. “Yep.”
“The man who has never committed to a woman for more than two months is going to wait six months for a woman who isn’t sleeping with him?”
He shrugged. “If that’s what it takes.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, yeah. Sure.”
“You have your man moratorium, and I’ll have my miss moratorium.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“We’ll see.”
I cleared the table, separating the garbage from the leftovers. There were a few trays we hadn’t even opened. “Do you want to take these?”
“I have an early flight in the morning. You take ’em.”
“Thank you. They won’t go to waste. One of my brothers or my dad will eat them if I don’t.”
“I guess I’ll see you in a week. At the wedding?”
“I guess so.”
Wilder walked over and shook hands with my dad. “Thank you for the beer, Harry.”
“Anytime. Come back again, son.”
He thumbed over his shoulder, gesturing to the door. “You want a ride home?”
Dad waved him off. “I’m good. I’ll jump on the subway.”
“You sure? I’m driving one of my dad’s cars. He collects old classics. This one is something else—a ’64 Pontiac GTO.”
Dad’s mouth dropped open. “No shit? My dad had a ’64 back in ’64. Loved that damn car.”
Wilder gestured to the door. “Come on then.”
“You sure? I don’t want you to go out of your way…”
My father might’ve asked the question, but he was already untying his apron.
“Positive.”
Wilder waited for Dad to come around the bar. He turned back to me as he pushed open the door for my father and winked. “See you soon, Cupcake.”
9
WILDER
“Shit.” I looked down at my vibrating phone and groaned, rubbing my forehead. Melanie Harper. I’d completely forgotten I’d texted her last week, asking her to hang out when I got back to London. I’d been traveling back and forth so much, I didn’t even realize it was Tuesday. Maybe she was canceling? Maybe I didn’t even have to waste time thinking this through?
But when I swiped to read the message, a picture popped up. I blew out two cheeks full of air. Melanie was lying in a bathtub, sudsy bubbles covering mostly everything—except two stiff nipples sticking out of the water.
Melanie: Getting ready for our date tonight. My place or yours?
I’d asked her to go out for Chinese food. But she’d gone right to how things were going to end. That was exactly the reason we got along so well. No games. Just straight to it. Neither of us had the time or desire for more. At least I hadn’t a few damn weeks ago. Now, though, I had no idea what the hell I was doing. A certain little redhead had me turned upside down.
Six months! I’d told her I was going to wait six months for her? Actually, it wouldn’t even be waiting for something to happen. It would be waiting for the chance of something happening after her dumb moratorium was over. The last time I’d gone six months without sex was—well, it had never happened. Not since I was fifteen and got laid on my birthday the first time. But I also had an early flight back to the US in the morning, so rather than stopping to analyze whether I was really going to do what I’d told Sloane I would, I mentally allowed myself to blame canceling on my travel schedule.
Wilder: Sorry, Mel. Can I get a raincheck? Expansion decision is coming down to the wire and I have to fly out again.