Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“What stuff?” I ask, not budging an inch. I want to hold on to wriggling puppy goodness for as long as I can.
“We’ll grab some lunch,” he says as he pulls his keys out of the front pocket of his shorts. They’re khaki, well-worn and frayed at the edges. He paired them with a T-shirt and a pair of flip-flops. With his messy blond hair and several days’ worth of facial hair growth, he looks like he’s a professional beach bum and not a hockey player. “Then we’re going skydiving.”
“You’re high as hell,” I blurt out as I level a stony look at him. “I’m not going skydiving.”
“Bungee jumping?” he asks.
“Nope.”
“Drag racing?”
“Nope.”
“You’re no fun, Doc,” he says with a laugh, then holds his hands out to me. “Cough up the puppy, because I really am starving.”
“But we’re not doing anything death defying, right?”
Reed gives an exaggerated sigh and eye roll. He makes a grabby hand motion for the dog but says, “I promise. Nothing death defying.”
—
“We’re going to have to take a cab home,” I tell Reed in all seriousness just before I polish off what might be my fifth beer, but I can’t remember. While I did my fair share of partying in school, it’s been awhile since I tied one on.
“You really haven’t been out much lately, have you?” Reed asks as he lounges in the booth seat opposite me with his back against the wall and one leg stretched out over the seat. We just finished a really long lunch where he ordered each of us a beer. It tasted good, and when the waitress asked if we wanted another, we both said yes.
Five beers later and I’m toasted.
“What’s wrong with taking a cab home?” I return a question to him with a disapproving look. “I’m sure it’s still a popular concept today that drinking and driving’s not cool. You’re a public figure. You can’t afford to get a DWI—”
“Relax there, Ranger Josie,” Reed says with a laugh as he holds a hand up. “I was only talking about the fact that cabs are passé. Everyone does Uber now.”
“Oh. Well, yes…I’ve heard of Uber, but never have taken one. Aren’t they dangerous?”
“I can promise you no one is going to hurt you while I’m around,” he says gallantly. “Besides, the drivers are well vetted and it’s as safe as a cab. Cheaper too.”
“I didn’t take you as a bargain shopper,” I say as I rub my thumb on the condensation of my pint glass. I should switch to water or I’m going to have a massive headache tomorrow.
“I’m not,” he clarifies. “But it’s easier to schedule an Uber on their app than to call for a cab.”
“Huh. Learn something new every day.”
Reed chuckles and turns his head to look across the restaurant. We ended up going to an Irish publike restaurant, and the Smithwick’s went down way too fast. Reed motions to a waitress and she comes over.
“Would ye two like another?” she asks in a lilting Irish accent.
Reed shakes his head and leans to the side slightly to pull his wallet out. “Just the check.”
The waitress turns away and I open my purse and reach for my wallet, but I’m stopped when Reed says, “Put that away, Josie.”
“I’ll pay for my share,” I tell him.
“I’ve got this. My treat.”
“Why?” I ask somewhat belligerently. If I were out with any of my girlfriends, we’d pay for our own meals.
“Because I’m super rich and I want to,” he says smoothly.
“Fine,” I grumble as I shove my wallet back into my purse. “But next time, I’m buying.”
“Suit yourself,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders, completely dispelling any thoughts I might have that this was a date. Which is fine by me. I’ve had a blast today with my new buddy, Reed Olson.
“So, what’s next on the agenda?” I ask Reed after he schedules an Uber on his phone app, pays the bill, and we slide out of the long booth.
“We get you home,” Reed says as his hand sweeps out for me to precede him from the restaurant. “You can relax the evening with a jigsaw puzzle or something.”
I start walking past a row of booths and into the pub area, which we have to traverse to get to the exit door. “What are you going to do?”
“Got plans tonight,” he says with such finality that I feel like he’s telling me it’s none of my business. But I’ve never been one to heed warnings like that.
“Which Barbie is it this time?” I ask over my shoulder as I wind my way through patrons standing around in the bar area.
Reed chuckles and tugs on my hair from behind. “I’m going out with some buddies of mine tonight. No Barbies.”
I smile to myself and start to look back at him to make some type of smart-ass comment that falters when someone runs into me. It knocks me backward into Reed, whose hands immediately go to my hips to hold me steady. Still, my entire backside is pressed to his front side for a brief and flush-inducing moment.