Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
And saw her.
I don’t even know her name. I know she has soft, blonde hair that sparkles in the light. I know she wears these overly large frames on her glasses that are dark black. They shouldn’t be sexy, but fuck, they are. I know she smells like strawberry shortcake and that when she thinks no one is looking, she’s rubbing the back of her neck as if she’s in pain. The longer I watch her the more I’m convinced of that pain. When I see her do it, I want to go to her, massage her neck, take care of her…fuck her raw.
I doubt she would appreciate that from a total stranger, but the feeling is there, just the same. What does it mean? Is this how Leo feels about Ettie? Could this unnamed girl be my mate? After a gazillion dates, I am having trouble believing that I have found a waitress who seems to make my heart pound harder, my blood run furiously, and my cock... hard.
I want to go to the girl and talk to her, investigate all the emotions surging through me, soothe her and take her out of here. The last place she should be if she’s got a headache—like I suspect she does—is here, tending to ungrateful customers, while being forced to smell food that’s covered in grease.
As a man, I’m normally all about the grease, but this place is too much, even for me. I pull my attention back to Clara again, hoping that I’m smiling when I’m supposed to, and giving comments when needed. Luckily for me, my date has no problem talking about everything, so my need to provide input is minimal. Not so lucky for me, the waitress has disappeared into the kitchen. The urge to storm in there and rip the door off the hinges—all just to keep her in my view—is so strong that I want to scream.
“If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to just go to the little girl’s room,” Clara says. I know it’s bad that I feel such a huge influx of relief that she’s leaving, but I do. I even nod at her, instead of speaking. I don’t want her to hear the joy in my voice at the prospect of her being gone and leaving me alone to talk with the waitress. She probably knows, however. I’m doing a horrible job of hiding my fascination.
Instead of making sure my date gets to the restroom okay, I immediately turn my head toward the kitchen. I feel as if I’m sitting on pins and needles as I do my best to will the girl out here, to show herself to me.
I know it has nothing to do with me, but a minute later she comes out carrying a tray loaded down with food. My gaze tracks her as she delivers the foot to two separate tables. She nervously glances over at me. For a second, our gazes meet, and then she recoils. She turns away leaving me confused. Am I making her uncomfortable with my interest? Surely as strong as this hunger I have towards her is, it is mutual. It has to be. Ettie said she felt the same need to be with Leo as he did her. That’s supposedly how this mating thing works—at least according to Oracle. Maybe I’m jumping the gun, but it doesn’t feel like it. Just looking at her makes me feel alive in ways that I’ve never felt before.
She has to feel it too.
If she doesn’t, I’m not sure what I’ll do.
She’s avoiding our table like the plague. There’s been another waitress who comes to us, even though this woman is going to all the other tables close by. My gaze darts to the bathroom and I breathe a sigh of relief that Clara hasn’t come out yet. The girl I’m obsessed with however picks that moment to walk by my table. I close my eyes as the sweetness of her scent hits me. It’s like strawberry shortcake—which just happens to be my favorite dessert since I got out of prison. Prison is what we call our time in lockup in the lab. Well, either that or hell.
I don’t think. I just reach out and grab the waitress’s hand. I sense her nervousness. I feel her pulse jump when I move my hand up and wrap my fingers around her wrist. I even hear the small gasp of surprise that most others probably wouldn’t. I not only hear it, but I also swear I can feel her breath against my skin. It puffs out of her soft, round, plush lips.
“Hi,” I breathe, unable to form any other words.
I feel the quiver that moves through her. Is she as excited as I am? Is she scared? I have a hundred questions to ask her.