Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“I wanted to stay home with Mom, go to school in California or take a year off, but she refused to let me do either. She knew how much I wanted to become a vet and work with my dad.” I draw in a deep breath. “So I went to college in New York, and Mom handled his estate. When I came home at the end of my first year, she told me she didn’t want to stay in California. That she was too lonely.”
“So what happened?” His gentle voice washes over me, giving me strength.
“Mom moved to New York to be closer to me, and I continued on with veterinary school in the city. And my dad’s best friend from his time in school, my godfather, owned a practice that had offices in Manhattan and East Hampton. I worked with him during summers and on breaks, and he took me in when I graduated.” I smile at the memory of how generous Harry has been from the day I relocated to the city.
“I like seeing that smile,” Axel says.
I lift one shoulder. The pain will always be there, but I found things to smile about, too. “I guess good did come out of the bad. Mom met her new husband, I got stepsiblings out of the deal, and I’ll eventually buy Harry’s practice when he retires.” I pause. “Mom set up a trust fund for me after selling Dad’s practice.”
Axel nods in understanding.
“It’s just that Dad and I were so close, and I still miss him,” I admit.
He takes my hand again and cups it in his own. “I know. You were a daddy’s girl.”
I bet none of his groupies ever sees that soft smile, and warmth slides through my veins. “Yeah. I guess I was.”
“But despite the setbacks, you achieved your dream, too. Maybe it’s different than you imagined it would be, but you’re a vet, and that’s something to be proud of.” His thumb brushes back and forth over the top of my hand. “I’m proud of you.”
I hate to admit how good it feels for him to offer me comfort. To have him here. When I know better than to put any hopes in a transient man who travels the world with his band, who doesn’t own his own home, and who might want an apartment in Manhattan, a place I rarely venture anymore.
We definitely have lingering feelings for each other. And just watching him grin, his eyes crinkle with laughter. The simplest of touches arouses me in ways no man ever has. But our basic differences, the reasons we split up in the first place, haven’t changed.
I want a stable life, a home, and eventually a husband and a family with my pets. So far, nothing he’s said indicates he desires the same.
The waiter returns, and we glance at our menus, each ordering dinner. The meal passes quickly and comfortably—if I exclude the sexual tension simmering between us. The lingering glances, his gaze focusing on the way I slide my tongue over my bottom lip to capture the last of my wine, and how I can’t stop staring at his handsome face and memorizing the differences between the teenager and the man.
After dinner is finished and he pays the bill, we walk out of the restaurant. Surprisingly, the temperature hasn’t dropped, and it’s still pleasant outside.
“Do you want to take a walk on the beach?” he asks, obviously not ready to take me home.
I’ve had such a nice, relaxing time with him, but a walk on the beach has romantic overtones, and I know it would be a mistake to say yes. We got reacquainted, and it’s time to end the evening.
“I would, but I have to be up early for work in the morning. I operate on Wednesdays.” Though true, I recognize the excuse for what it is and have no doubt he does, too.
He studies my face, and whatever he sees there has him nodding. “Next time, then.”
I want to object to the notion of another date, but Axel has already turned and handed his ticket to the valet. When the car arrives, the valet helps me into the front seat, and we drive home in silence, my hair whipping in the wind.
Axel reaches over and takes my hand in his, threading our fingers together. He’s nothing if not determined, something I ought to know from how he’s made it to the top of his chosen profession. Not an easy feat.
Instead of fighting him, I close my eyes and allow myself to enjoy his touch, the glide of his finger over my hand, and the sound of his voice as he sings along with the classic rock song on the radio.
He walks me to my front door and pauses. Nerves flutter in my belly as I wait for him to kiss me. After all, it isn’t a typical first date, not when we already know each other so well. Intimately, in fact. Which means maybe he expects more than a kiss. If he wants to come inside and end up in my bed, I’m not ready.