Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Any time you want to test your theory, I’m game,” he says, running his lips around his mouth.
My insides quiver at his proximity mixed with his words.
“Why do you always turn me down?” He leans toward me lazily, as if he’s deciding whether to move in for a kiss. “What is it about me that you don’t like?”
Slowly, I lift my eyes from his lips to his beautiful green irises. It’s as if he was waiting to capture my gaze, prepared to lock me in place until I give him an answer.
“Don’t give me it’s because we’re friends or some shit like that,” he says. “We’re not in high school anymore.”
“It has nothing to do with us being friends.”
“Then what is it?”
I consider how to answer him—how honest to be.
Do I tell him that I think about him often? That it’s his face, his hands, those lips that I imagine when I’m in bed alone in the middle of the night? That I had a vibrator a few years ago that I dubbed Jess because that’s who I imagined more often than not was making me come?
“I’ve told you this before,” I say, searching his eyes. “You’re a Carmichael. You’re born to have six kids and a gorgeous wife who travels to wrestling tournaments on Saturday mornings and goes to your parents’ for Sunday dinners.”
“So?”
My heart drops. Exactly. “So … we’re not the same.”
“How do you mean?” he asks, his brows pulling together. “The crux of that setup is me having a gorgeous wife. And while I’m not proposing marriage, you’re fucking gorgeous. You’re more than fucking gorgeous, but let’s keep it simple.” His grin turns shy. “You’re my dream girl, Dream Girl.”
I blush. My God, this man is dangerously sweet and sexy. Has he really been serious all these years? Has he really always wanted a shot?
How could I be his dream girl?
“I’m not pressuring you,” he says. “I’m not that kind of guy. Just know that I think the world of you, and if you ever need anything or change your mind …”
His shoulders fall forward, his lips turning toward the floor. It’s the face of a man being turned down.
I want to explain that anything between us would end in disappointment. He would be upset that I led him on when I’m already absolutely certain that none of the things he admits he wants are what I want. I’d be hurt when I see him silently judging me for my choices—just like the men before him—and the pain I’d endure when I lost him would wreck me.
There’s no doubt.
How would you survive having your heart broken by Jess Carmichael?
But explaining all of that to a guy who’s just asking me on a date would assume that he would want something more. Maybe he would, or maybe he wouldn’t. But that really wouldn’t matter because I would want more.
How could I not?
And that’s why I must save us … from me.
My adrenaline drops, and I’m suddenly so damn tired that sitting up straight requires more effort than I have energy for.
“I’ve had a day,” I say. “Right now, I want to go home and get some rest before morning comes and I have to make some hard decisions.” Like how am I going to get out of this retreat and save my job at the same time?
His jaw sets, but he nods. “Do you need a ride home?”
I glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, Chuck is watching. At least this will fortify the ex-husband story.
“Kerissa will take me,” I say, turning around. “I took a ride share over here, but she never lets me ride in them alone after dark.”
“Good.”
“Did you say my name?” Kerissa stands beside her chair. “What’s up?”
I look up at her. “Will you take me home?”
“Sure. Let me find Jenny and pay for our drinks.”
I stand too. “I’ll pay for mine. You had water.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jess says. “I got it.”
“No,” I say, smiling at him. He’s so fucking nice. “You aren’t getting my drink. I’ve wrapped you up in enough shit for one night. I should be buying your dinner.”
“That’ll never happen.” He searches my eyes before sighing and turning to Kerissa. “Get her home. I’ll take care of the bill.”
“Got ya,” Kerissa says.
I look up at him and take in the handsomeness in his face—the kindness and goodness and sexiness wrapped up in one package.
He’s going to make someone a lucky woman someday.
“Thank you for the drink and for helping me out tonight,” I tell him.
“Thank you for marrying me.”
I burst out laughing. “Thank you for divorcing me.”
“Nah, you had to be the one that filed. I wouldn’t have been able to walk away from you.” He grins, tossing me a wink. “I’ll see you around.”
“See ya,” I say, tucking my chin and following Kerissa out of the restaurant.