Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“The difference is,” he continues, “I know that sex can be better with the right person, not just any person.”
My brain scrambles, trying to find a witty, succinct counterargument, to tell him he’s wrong, that my way is infinitely hotter because you get variety and excitement and . . .
The longer he holds my gaze, his eyes no longer seeming as cold as they did when we first met, the more my thoughts seem to scatter. I’m struggling to remember all the reasons I stay single, to form all the arguments against being with just one person.
Most confusing at all, I’m fighting to remember all the reasons why he wasn’t my type.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Tuesday Evening, September 27
I have no idea how this happened. None.
One minute I was packing up for the day, debating whether to go to the store as planned to pick up something nutritious for dinner or order a pizza, extra cheese.
The next, Thomas is asking if I want to get together that evening to plan out the itinerary for Jon and Collette’s weekend.
And then, not only am I saying yes, I’m inviting him over.
Yes. That’s right.
I invited Thomas Decker, my boss and my sort-of enemy to my apartment.
Tonight.
And he said yes.
Now, this is going to shock nobody, but my apartment isn’t exactly set up to be “company-ready” at a moment’s notice. Which means I’ve spent the past hour as a human tornado, whirling around the apartment, putting away shoes, frantically cleaning out all stray hair strands from the bathroom, all while trying to identify the source of a funky smell.
(The culprit: A rogue fried rice container under the sink, and nothing that a quick run to the trash and spritz of air freshener can’t handle.)
And just as I think I have a grip on the entire situation, the unthinkable happens.
“Baby girl!”
Great. My mother.
The woman’s like a ninja at getting into my building, and I return her hug in resignation. Her perfume is different this time, more floral. Another gift from another boyfriend, no doubt.
“Hi. What are you doing here?” I check in the hallway to make sure Thomas hasn’t followed her up. “Can I call you tomorrow? My boss is coming over any minute.”
She halts her scan of my fridge contents. “Your boss? Comes to your house?”
“Yeah, I know. I don’t really understand it either.”
I continue to hold the front door open, hoping she’ll get the hint and leave. Instead, she sniffs the air. “It smells good in here. Different.”
“It’s called clean.”
“Huh. Well, honey, don’t rush me out! I’ll just say a quick hi to . . . her?” she says, pouring herself a bit of wine from an open bottle that I’m pretty sure is quite old, but she doesn’t seem to mind.
“Him.”
My mom sighs. “I was afraid of that. Listen, baby girl. I know what’s going on here, and I get it. Men in power positions are delicious. But take it from me, that kind of power dynamic is sexy at first, but will blow up in your face.”
It’s a rare moment when my mother decides to be, well, motherly, and I’d be touched if her warning wasn’t so entirely misplaced.
“Trust me, he is so not interested in me like that.”
Mom takes affront. “Why not? You’re smart and strong and sexy.”
I lift my hand. “Please don’t call me sexy. It’s weird.”
“It’s true. And why would he be coming over if not to get in your pants? Have I taught you nothing about men?”
Not really, no.
“Because in addition to being my boss, he’s Collette’s fiancé’s brother, and we’re planning the bachelor party together.”
“Ooh. Strippers?”
“Sadly, no. I’ll fill you in tomorrow.” I make a sweeping gesture with my arm out the door. You’ve got to go.
She downs the rest of her wine in a single gulp. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave. But only if you tell me why you think this man wouldn’t be interested in my baby girl. Didn’t I raise you to be confident about your appeal?”
“Yes, and you also taught me to be realistic about my prospects and compatibility. He’s a marrying guy, Mom.”
“Oh.” She puts a hand over her chest, horrified. “Say no more.”
“Exactly,” I say with feeling. “Now, would you please—”
“Good evening.”
I groan aloud at the calm, masculine voice, knowing even before I turn that I’m going to find Thomas standing there.
Even still, I do a double-take, because this is not a Thomas I’m familiar with. Instead of a suit, he’s wearing jeans and a thin gray v-neck sweater layered over a black T-shirt. He’s still wearing fancy shoes, some sort of loafer, and he’s still a far cry from my usual type with Chucks and tats and stubble, but my mouth is absurdly dry for some reason.
His cool eyes light on mine for a moment before shifting towards my mother. “Hi. I’m Thomas Decker.”