Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
If they do attack, it might be fun. Maybe I can turn it into a food fight, like on season three of Vampire Varsity. I’ve never been in one before. The waitress won’t like it, but maybe she’ll join in. Except she looks more the type to pull out a switchblade and start stabbing.
YOLO!
Before anything interesting happens, a shadow falls over me, and a hand clutches the back of my neck. It’s large and warm and grips me firmly enough that I won’t be able to quickly shake it off.
I go very still.
“She’s with me,” a deep voice rumbles above my head.
Goosebumps spread all over my body, like I’m outside facing an oncoming storm, and my heart trips.
I don’t need to look up to know who it is. I can imagine that spiderweb tattoo on the back of my neck, and suddenly, my heartbeat is booming in my ears.
The lacrosse guys look up at him and blanch.
“There’s a two-hour wait,” the waitress rasps at them. “Come back later.”
There are some muttered complaints, but they leave, slamming the door behind them. I feel disappointed. I was looking forward to Mr. Muscles beating them into a pulp.
“Hello again.” I look up at my protector. And freeze.
He’s not wearing a mask.
Pretty, I want to gasp. He’s got a classically symmetrical face that’s almost brutally good-looking. High forehead with that faint scar, blond brows, golden stubble covering his perfect jaw and chin. He’s so pretty I can barely look at him!
No, not pretty, my instincts say. Dangerous. There’s something predatory about those beautiful blue eyes. He’s a hottie with a dangerous aura, and that only makes my heart flutter faster. My cheeks are warm, just being close to him.
I can’t believe he’s here, looming larger than life. He takes up more than his fair share of space in the tight diner. And he’s so tall he probably had to duck through the door.
I don’t know how such a big guy snuck up on me, but he saved the day, again.
He’s still touching me.
He’s got me literally in his clutches. My body is primed after several nights fantasizing about him, so more than anything, I’m turned on.
What’s going to happen now?
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer. He keeps his hand clamped on the back of my neck and guides me to a big booth in the far corner, by the window.
“Where are we going?”
“You’re eating with me in case those guys come back.”
Awww, he’s still protecting me. “Why do you care?”
“Maybe I’m a nice guy.”
I snort. “No, you’re not.” But, okay, I’ll play. I wanted to sit in a booth, and he’s apparently got the biggest one in the place, all to himself.
So I let him maneuver me but take the opportunity to sniff him. He smells nice. Like… meat. Barbecue. Smoke. Steak. Bacon. It’s a comforting smell. We should bottle it and sell it. Papa’s a perfumer by trade—at least, that’s his official business. He mostly deals with botanical essences, but if he could distill this guy’s scent, we’d make a mint.
Blondie settles me into the large circular booth and slides in after me, making me scoot deeper into the seat. There’s plenty of space, but I kind of like how he’s crowding me. Gives me tummy flutters. I wriggle my hips and press my thighs together to stuff down my excitement.
“How’d you score this booth if you’re sitting all by yourself?”
“Dolores likes me.”
The waitress strides by, slapping a menu down in front of me, and takes off without looking at us. I eye her retreating back. “Really?”
“No.”
I go to grab the menu, and he slips it out of reach before I can get it.
“Hey, that’s mine.” I glare at him, but he’s too busy reading the menu. “I want pancakes.”
“No. You eat too much sugar.”
WTF? How the heck does he know that?
Did he just admit to following me? I knew someone was tailing me on my tour of all the Panetteria Principessa locations.
“Okay, Dad,” I mutter.
He lowers the menu long enough to shake his head at me. I wonder if he’d prefer I call him Daddy. I file that idea away for later.
“I’m hungry,” I whine.
He raises his hand and catches Dolores’s eye, and holds up two fingers, then five, then five again. She nods, disappears into the kitchen, and returns mere minutes later to lay out seven plates of food in front of us.
“Wow. She does like you.” The tables around us are still waiting for their coffee.
He pushes a plate of bacon my way. “Eat up. You need protein.”
I dig in. He’s right, I probably should eat more than sugar-coated carbs for breakfast. I stuff my face and take the opportunity to study the man beside me. He’s slow and methodical but somehow inhales an entire plateful within two minutes.