Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Her mom picked it.” A ghost of a smile. “Said if she ever had a girl, she wanted a name that was old and timeless and unique. It wasn’t my first choice, but I wanted to honor her memory.”
Makes sense. “Were you married?”
Hayes chuckles. “No.” He offers no further explanation.
Not married.
The server slips by to refill our waters. I say thank you too brightly and take a sip I don’t need. My brain, unhelpfully, decides to offer a confessional in return.
“I was engaged once,” I blurt.
His brows lift, his faint smile reappearing. “Oh yeah?”
“For about thirty seconds.” I laugh. “Don’t know what I was thinking, saying yes to a guy when we were twenty years old, but there I was . . .” Shrug. “He was nice. Good on paper. Bad in practice.”
“What made you say yes?”
“Expectation.” I grimace. “Guilt. Everyone around us was coupling up, and the jackass asked at a bonfire surrounded by cell phones. I didn’t want to be the villain of someone else’s Instagram story by saying no. Can you imagine that shit going viral?”
Why am I telling him this?
Dear God, Layla, be quiet.
His mouth tips. “You changed your mind?”
“The next morning I woke up and realized I was a version of myself I didn’t like. One who never said no and agreed with everything and ugh—no. I hated that about myself.” I twirl my straw. “I never want to be anyone’s little housekeeper.”
“Fair enough.” He grunts. “Did he take it badly?”
“He cried.” I pull a face. “Which, like—valid reaction. But then he asked if we could still have a friendship ceremony. So.” I open a palm. “Here we are. A few short relationships since, but nothing that stuck.”
There is literally no need for me to bring up Blake, my latest ex-catastrophe, who slept with the town’s only dentist.
Total dickhead.
Hayes’s laugh is surprising, a warm vibration I feel in my ribs. Yummy. Delicious. Deep and so so sexy. “Friendship ceremony? That sounds fucking stupid.”
I laugh too. “Oh good, you agree.”
We’re both grinning like idiots. I don’t look away from Hayes because I am shameless and enthralled by him and also because his mouth is doing that unfair curve again. The table feels smaller. The noise of the room fuzzes out.
He settles his glass, knuckles grazing the table. “So what do you want instead of that,” he asks, strong jaw tilting. “If not housekeeper or friendship bride.”
“A team,” I say with authority because I have thought about this no less than a million times. “A cocaptain. Someone who tells me when I’m wrong and hands me a hoodie when I forget mine.”
And wants to have lots and lots of sex.
My eyes drop to his broad chest. His large hands.
His gaze tracks mine to his hands. He knows exactly where my thoughts went; I can tell by the slow, devastating pull of his mouth. One finger taps the rim of his glass, lazy, like he’s giving me time to look my fill.
They flex, veiny and wide and—
“What else?” he asks, rougher now.
“A guy who—”
“And I’m backkk!” Benny materializes as if on cue, sliding into her chair with the subtlety of a parade. “What did I miss?”
The spell snaps. I blink; Hayes leans away a fraction, clears his throat, and somehow manages to look both guilty and innocent.
Benny eyes us suspiciously. “Why are your faces red?”
“Are they? That’s weird,” I say.
“Spicy fries,” he counters at the same time, plucking one off his plate and wiggling it in the air.
His daughter narrows her eyes, but then they light up once she spies her cocktail. “Seven cherries. Sweet!” She fist pumps.
“Bragging rights,” Hayes tells her, recovering his equilibrium much quicker than I do, his knee bumping mine under the table. I freeze but don’t move away.
He doesn’t either.
“Why is Dad smiling like that?” Benny inquires, plucking a cherry out of her glass. “You look sus.”
“I’m not smiling,” he insists, forcing a scowl onto his face.
“Mm-hmm.” She swivels to me. “Was he being charming? He tries sometimes. Like a wittle baby deer learning to walk.”
“I would never accuse your dad of having charm,” I say gravely.
“Gee, thanks,” he mutters, lips twitching again.
Benny clocks it and points triumphantly. “Aha! A microsmile. That’s your ‘I’m pretending I don’t like this, but I do’ face.”
“Eat your fries,” he rumbles.
“Gladly.” She pops another cherry into her mouth. “So what are we doing after this? Hot chocolate? Ice skating in the town square? A nighttime walk through downtown, strolling hand in hand?”
Where is she coming up with this?
“Bedtime,” Hayes counters.
She mopes. “Booo!”
“Counterproposal,” I say, leaning conspiratorially toward Benny. “Hot chocolate, and a short victory drive down Main Street to see the twinkling lights. Then—” I slice a hand through the air. “Back to the hotel before we turn into pumpkins. You’ve had a long day, and I have to be up at five.”