Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
My heart aches at his words. Who taught this guy to woo a woman? He’s an expert. If Reid taught him, I’m amazed that man doesn’t have a wife already, because this is a skill lacking in a lot of men.
“That’s sweet,” I murmur.
“It’s the damn truth.”
The server brings our appetizer, and it is to die for. We both are distracted with talks of the future as we wolf down what’s presently in front of us. Somewhere between our groans of appreciation, the server takes our order for our entrees. Not long after we’ve polished off the appetizer, she brings each of us the ember-seared filet mignons we ordered cooked to perfection. I got the charred brussels sprouts with crispy prosciutto and Brayden got the sweet corn & jalapeño pudding with the intention of us sharing with each other.
Everything is so delicious.
I try not to think about my diet, because there’s always tomorrow. Tonight is about letting loose and enjoying a good time with an even better man.
We move on from heavier topics to more mundane. Brayden loves reality TV but falls asleep during movies. He once saved a drowning dog from one of the ponds on the property and actually did CPR on the poor thing. His favorite color is green, and he wants to visit the beach one day.
I tell him all my quirks too. It’s fun, lighthearted, and an enjoyable time.
I’m happy to see we don’t just have a physical chemistry, but a personal one too. I like hearing about him and his life. His eyes light up whenever I talk about mine. To everyone else, we must look like dopey idiots in love.
“Hear me out,” Brayden says after polishing off his steak. “We share both the honeycomb ice cream flight and the molten chocolate whiskey cake. I know it’s a lot, but I really want to try them both.”
Truth is, so do I.
“I’m in,” I say with a grin.
Later, when we’re drowning in decadent dark chocolate lava cake with salted caramel whiskey sauce and smoked vanilla, dark chocolate, and salted honey caramel ice cream, I discover we’re holding hands across the table.
It’s such a natural thing to reach for him.
His thumb swipes over mine as he licks honey off his spoon. My core tightens. I have been fantasizing about his tongue somewhere else, licking off another type of honey. He must spy the heat in my gaze because his darkens and then drops to my lips. We just went from sweet to spicy in no time flat.
Check, please…
“Casey?”
I reluctantly tear my eyes from Brayden, seeking out the sound of the familiar voice. “Nick? What are you doing here?”
“Date night without the kids,” he says, smiling at me. “Apparently me and Dane weren’t the only two with that idea.” His eyes cut over to Brayden. “Hey, man.”
Awkward.
I tug my hand free and jerk out of my seat to hug both Nick and Dane. “This is my neighbor, Brayden,” I explain to them. “Brayden, this is Nick, Derek’s cousin, and Nick’s husband Dane.”
Brayden rises to his feet to shake their hands, but I can tell I’ve hurt his feelings. I know why, too. I didn’t introduce him as my boyfriend, even though that’s so obviously what he is to me.
“Good to meet you,” Nick says to him and then cuts his eyes back over to me. “I heard the news. Sorry, Casey. I really thought you guys were the real deal.”
I want to shrivel at that statement. What do I even say to that? Me too? That wouldn’t hurt Brayden’s feelings or anything…
“Yep,” I blurt out, voice shaking. “I’m sorry. I know you two want some time alone. It was good seeing you.”
Nick gives me another hug and then the two of them walk away.
Brayden sits stiffly, clearly stewing on the whole thing. I feel like an idiot and need to apologize. The server interrupts us to bring the check. Brayden hands over his card without looking at the ticket. Unfortunately, he doesn’t look at me either.
Silence stretches out between us and my eyes begin to sting. Tell him you’re sorry, Casey. It’s on the tip of my tongue. I’m ashamed that I just did that to him.
“You’re being quiet,” I murmur, not trusting my voice to say much more.
The server returns before he can answer. He signs the receipt, collects his card, and then rises to his feet. I want to run over to him and take his hand, but shame has me clutching my purse tightly instead. He leads the way across the rooftop, down the elevator, and out the front door of the restaurant. By the time we reach the car, and he opens my door for me, I’m about to lose it, tears welling.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I froze up. Seeing Nick was a shock and a punch to the gut to be honest. Why are you giving me the silent treatment?”