O Line (The New York Nighthawks #3) Read Online Fiona Davenport

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Insta-Love, Romance, Sports, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
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“I’d love to go.” I winced when I remembered that tonight was my last shift before an upcoming trip out of town. “When is it?”

He rattled off a date that was a month away, and luckily, it was a couple of days after I’d be back home. “Oh, good. I’m headed to Los Angeles for a shoot tomorrow and plan to spend some time with my brother since he lives there. Then I’m detouring to San Francisco to see my parents before flying back down for another shoot.”

A wrinkle popped up in the middle of his brow. “How long will you be gone?”

“Four weeks.” I’d been looking forward to this trip for months, but just having met Jordan, I found myself wishing I had told my mom that I could only stay for a week. Or maybe even a long weekend. Then I could have come back to see him before my other shoot.

“Damn.” His lips curled down at the edges.

My head swiveled toward the door when a group of four people walked through it. Beaming a smile at them, I murmured, “I’ll be right with you.” Then I turned back to Jordan and asked, “Do you still want your table?”

“That depends.” He bent his head toward me and lowered his voice. “Do you get a break anytime soon?”

Having all of his focus on me made butterflies swirl in my belly. “I actually do. In about a half an hour.”

“Then yes, I’ll order some appetizers so you can eat something.”

Picking up a menu, I held it over my racing heart as I circled the hostess station. “That is so sweet of you, but I’m not sure the owner would be okay with me doing that.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure you don’t get into trouble,” he assured me.

His confidence made me trust his response, so I snuck over to his table—which was in a corner away from prying eyes—as soon as my break started. As promised, Jordan had ordered several items from the first-course menu. He timed their arrival so everything was brought out only minutes before I sat across from him.

“Thanks so much for doing this,” I murmured as I spooned some of the heirloom melon salad onto my plate, followed by a couple of California spot prawns. “You picked well. These are two of my favorite dishes.”

He grinned at me, his green eyes twinkling. “The server mentioned how much you liked them.”

“Oh, really?” I returned his smile. “Tori just randomly volunteered that information?”

“I might have asked when I told her to hold the order until it was closer to your break,” he confessed.

I laughed softly, shaking my head as I speared a prawn on my fork. “I’m sure she was very helpful.”

“She seemed excited that you were joining me.”

I rolled my eyes and mumbled, “I’m sure she was.”

As though mentioning my nosy co-worker—who liked to know all the gossip—summoned her, Tori appeared at the side of our table and set a non-alcoholic cocktail with a delicious blend of ginger, club soda, and mint in front of me. Her gaze slid toward Jordan, and then she flashed me a quick grin. “I thought you might want your favorite drink, too.”

“Oh, but—”

Before I could argue that it was too expensive, Jordan thanked Tori and waved her off. Then he asked, “Do you like working here?”

As I swallowed the bite I’d just put in my mouth, I nodded. “Yes, I was lucky to get the job. Snagging a position at a Michelin-starred restaurant isn’t easy, and they pay well.”

He tilted his head to the side, his gaze assessing as he scanned my expression. “That’s not what I asked.”

I shrugged. “Hostessing isn’t what I want to do with my life, but it pays the bills while I get my modeling job off the ground.”

“You’re a model?”

I expected to see shock in his eyes since I wasn’t exactly what people thought of when they heard “model.” But instead, he looked genuinely interested and…impressed.

“Yes, I work with Le Creme Modeling Agency. They specialize in plus-size models.”

“Plus size?” he echoed, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “As far as I’m concerned, they don’t need to slap a label on you since you’re fucking perfect.”

“Thanks.” I ducked my head, my cheeks heating. “Considering the fashion industry used to call models sized above a six plus-sized and I’m quite a bit bigger than that, I’m not offended. At least they’re finally better about hiring models with actual curves these days.”

He shook his head. “I guess it’s a damn good thing I’m not involved in the fashion industry, then.”

“Millions of fans would certainly agree.”

“Are you a football fan?” There was a gleam of male satisfaction in his jade green orbs. “You recognized me right off the bat.”

“Oh, yeah. Um…my dad is into football. The Nighthawks are his favorite team. I guess some of what he’s said over the years has stuck in my brain.” At least the stuff about Jordan had, but I wasn’t going to admit to that minor detail.


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