Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Really, Bags?” Thayne good naturedly goads. “We gotta do this every time I come in?” He impishly beams down at the man not much taller than me. “We gotta pretend you don’t know exactly who I am?” His head tilts slightly to one side, light brown locks slightly swaying. “We gotta go through the motions even though I scored you playoff tix – and a locker room tour – as a graduation gift for your future Dyr College freshman?”
This time the corner of his lip kicks upward prior to him confessing, “I don’t ask, I don’t get to keep this gig. And while we both know HE pays well…kids are expensive.” He lets a full mouth grin grow. “Especially when they play hockey.”
My date good heartedly surrenders. “Ain’t that ‘The Gospel Truth’.”
There’s no stopping myself from croaking, “Hercules?!”
Our eyes briefly meet. “Do you remember The Muses, Gillybean?” His teeth steal a small bite of his bottom lip. “Great songs and my first cartoon crushes.”
I don’t bother hiding my giggles. “Crushes? As in plural?”
“They were different heights and sizes and voice ranges. How could any guy in his right mind pick jus’ one?”
More snickers escape me on a shake of the head.
“First crushes and still crushes.” He playfully winks. “Who doesn’t occasionally pop a post when they start all that hip swayin’?”
Ohmygoooddddd!
Is he really just openly admitting to everyone in a ten-foot radius what occasionally turns him on?!
“Password?” lightly chortles the man he referred to as Bags.
“Robusta.”
Bags nods his gratitude, steps out of our way, and ushers a hand to the various open seating in the speakeasy. “Enjoy your night, Groffee.”
Thayne unhurriedly leads us to a peach velvet couch on the far side of the stage where a tall, dreadlocked woman is singing into a standing mic while a very short, Hispanic male enthusiastically plays the tambourine along to the music flooding through the unseen speakers.
We’re still settling behind our small, round, wooden table when I inquire, “Is he really playing the tambourine to a Toni Braxton song?”
“Not just any Toni Braxton song but ‘Another Sad Love Song’.” He ensures that I’m comfortable in the space before adventuring to do the same. “But yeah. Yeah, he is.”
Bewilderment seeps into my stare as it connects to his. “What exactly is this place?”
“The Kaloon,” announces my date at the same time he extends his arm around the back of the sofa. “It’s a private, members only, Karaoke, coffee bar.” Unbridled joy rips through his expression. “They only serve things with coffee, so it’s where you come for a drink or dessert, but not dinner.” Regret swiftly replaces the previous happiness. “Which again I’m sorry about cancelin’ our reservation for that. There was jus’ no way I was gonna make it in time.”
Recalling the interaction, he had with the doorman is what encourages me to investigate, “Were you busy dealing with your own kid or something?”
Confusion quirks an eyebrow. “’Xcuse me?”
“You were relating to what the door dude was saying about the expense of kids, so it got me thinking that maybe you had one or some of your own that I wasn’t aware of, and that that’s why you pushed this back.” T.V. drama knowledge widens my stare. “Orrrrrrr…you could’ve been dealing with discovering that the babysitter you hired really works for an underground trafficking network and had secret plans to kidnap and sell your child to a wealthy couple in the Netherlands.”
Palpable horror has him lowering his jaw and whispering out, “What?!”
“Sorry…” toying with the edge of my clutch occurs out of embarrassment. “I watch a lot of dramas. Particularly spy and romance because medical shit gets too much wrong for me to feel like I’m relaxing rather than preparing a lecture to reeducate the masses that that’s not how that particular procedure is actually done.”
Amusement swiftly reappears in his expression allowing my bare shoulders to once more relax.
My nervous movements to still.
Toes to unfurl in my pumps.
Forcryingoutloud, have I always been this bad at dating?!
Is this why no one ever calls or texts for a second date?!
“No kids of my own – although I look forward to the day I have them,” Thayne smoothly announces prior to adjusting one of his suspenders, “but I get what he was talkin’ about ‘cause I’ve had a hand in rasin’ my little brother for as long as I can remember.”
“Bronny, right?”
Surprise swiftly cakes his face.
“You brought him to the family skate last summer.”
“You were there?” Disbelief scrunches him closer to me, woodsy clean scents instantly overwhelming my senses. “How the hell did I miss you?”
“I wasn’t um…” my frame mindlessly curls towards his like the smell is a Siren song, “on the um…” his leg presses lightly against mine, hitching my breath, “um…um…”
Cockiness tugs the edge of his lips upwards. “Ice?”
“That.” Clearing my throat occurs in hopes of regaining my composure. “I swung by on my lunch break. Grabbed a few pictures from the stands.”