Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“That wise woman must be something else.” I start to walk and look over my shoulder at him, winking. “You should definitely listen to said woman.”
“I think I just might.” He chuckles as we zigzag through the people standing around and chitchatting
When we get to the bar, he looks at me. “What will it be?”
“I’ll have a bottle of water,” I tell him.
He turns the tables on me and sings, “Borrringgg.” It makes me bite my lip to stop from smiling and I don’t know why, but I just burst out laughing.
“I’m in training.” I turn the tables back at him and he points to me. I tap his hand away. “Besides, it’s about moderation,” I tell him, “which sounds as boring as ‘I’m in training’ but the rule of thumb is one glass of booze, one glass of water. I have failed miserably at that tonight since I’ve had about five shots and maybe one glass of water. So I figure having a whole bottle of water now will offset all the other drinks I’ve had without water.”
He puts his elbow on the bar, bending it and leaning into it, his bicep looking like it’s going to bust out of the suit jacket. “Is this another universal rule that I didn’t know about?”
“Well, considering you’re in training”—I lift my fingers up to do air quotes for the word “training”—“you wouldn’t really know this rule.”
“I’m really learning all kinds of interesting things tonight.” He winks at me and my stomach tingles and then it shoots into other areas that he should not be affecting, but is.
“Old dogs can learn new tricks.” I lean against the bar, mimicking his stance.
“How old are you?” he asks me.
“A little bit past a quarter of a century,” I tell him and he just stares at me. “What?”
“You couldn’t just say twenty-five?”
“That was a test.” I shrug. “Congratulations, you passed.”
“What’s the prize?” he asks me and my body flushes. I don’t know if it’s the booze or the heat or maybe it’s a bit of both.
“What do you want the prize to be?” I ask him, and his eyes just stare into mine. I wait a few seconds as he blinks a couple of times. I’m waiting for his answer, and before he can say a word, the bartender comes over.
“What can I get for you two?” he asks, putting a napkin down in front of each of us.
“I’ll have a water,” Jaxon orders, “and the lady will have—”
“A water and a cranberry on the rocks with a splash of vodka.” He nods his head at me as he walks over to grab the two water bottles, opening them, and putting them on the napkins in front of us before he walks over to make my drink.
“A splash of vodka?” he asks me and I nod my head.
“I usually like my drinks a light pink,” I inform him, “but I’m going to have to go easy on the booze until I get more water into me.”
“Like your cheeks.” He points to my cheeks.
“They are not pink.” I stand up and put both my hands on my cheeks.
“They were pink when you were flirting with me.”
“I was not flirting with you.” I laugh nervously and glance around to avoid looking into his eyes, and wait for the ground to open up so I can fall in and then die. I roll my eyes and grab the bottle of water to stop my mouth from saying something else. “You were the one who wanted to know what his prize was.”
“You said I won the game.” He points to me.
“Actually, I said you passed. I never said anything about the game.”
“Same thing.”
“So not the same thing.” I shake my head. “You’re flirting with me.” I point to my chest.
“So what have you been up to?” he asks and I take another sip of water.
“Did you just avoid what I just said so you don’t have to admit that you were the one flirting with me?” I ask him, my cheeks even feel like they are getting pink as he looks over at me with a smirk on his face that turns to a grin.
“Maybe”—he takes his bottle of water and drinks a sip—“or maybe not.”
“Work.” I put the bottle of water down when the bartender comes back, letting him off the hook.
“What do you do again?” he questions me and I tilt my head to the side.
“By saying the word again, it means you asked the first time and you forgot.”
“I know what you do.” He rolls his eyes. “It has to do with, like, social media and stuff.”
“Okay, fine, you get half the points,” I retort as the bartender places the drink down in front of me. “A perfect shade of pink,” I observe, holding up the glass and taking a sip of it. “So good.”