Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
I finish my coffee and change into my dress for the diner, smoothing out a few wrinkles before tossing my hair into a ponytail and heading out. When I pull into the parking lot at Dale’s, I spot a familiar black SUV parked right by the front door. I park beside it and get out, laughing under my breath when I catch Ben asleep in the front seat. For a fleeting moment, I take him in with his head propped up by his hand and his sharp features in sweet repose. He’s so unbelievably attractive sometimes it just hits me square in the gut.
How annoying that he gets to go through life looking like that.
I tap the window with my knuckle and he jolts awake. I laugh as he wipes sleep from his eyes and opens his door.
“Did you sleep here all night?” I ask, genuinely worried he might have.
He’s wearing lounge pants and a t-shirt sculpted across his broad shoulders. His hair is a rumpled, sexy mess.
He scrubs a hand down his face, clearly still tired. “No. Since I can’t just call you, I woke up early and drove out to see you. Wanted to get here before you started work.”
He shifts in his seat to get out and I step back, but my car’s behind me and it blocks me from backing up even more. His size makes it so I feel caged in as he stands up and looks down on me.
“Morning,” he says with an easygoing smile as he leans in, his gaze flitting back and forth between my eyes.
“Technically it’s not morning yet. The sun’s not up,” I point out.
His smile widens and he bends down the rest of the way, pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek.
“Come inside. I’ll make you breakfast.”
I’m the first person in most days, which means the lights are off and the doors are locked. I make fast work of both, stepping in before Ben and flicking on the light switch so we’re bathed in the diner’s familiar warm glow. He yawns and stretches his hands over his head, revealing a tantalizing sliver of his lower abs. I shift my gaze away and keep on walking, heading toward the counter so I can stow my purse and get the coffee going. I work while Ben walks around the place, taking chairs off tables and helping me with my duties.
“You don’t have to do all that,” I tell him.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“You ever have a job like this?” I ask him as we go about our separate tasks.
“When I was twelve, I lied and said I was sixteen so I could bus tables at a restaurant near my house. I only worked there a couple months, but it was nice to have some spending money.”
“Yeah, when I was that age, I worked for a lady who ran a dog kennel. I came in on the weekends and fed the dogs and gave them walks. It was a good job for a young kid.”
“Have you worked ever since?”
I nod, and he hums like he doesn’t like my answer.
“Most people do, Ben. Can’t all be fancy basketball players like you.”
He shoots me a teasing look and I give him one right back.
“Finish up with those chairs and I’ll get you some coffee. Cook won’t be in for a little while, but I’ll make you something to eat.”
“I liked what you made me that one time.”
Why that tiny compliment makes me blush, I’ll never know.
I’m fast back in the kitchen, careful not to dirty the place up before Cook gets in. He’s meticulous with his stuff and likes it all organized a certain way; he’ll get onto me if I mess up his system. I make some hash browns and eggs and fruit with a side of sausage patties. I set the plate down in front of Ben then reach out to steal one of the strawberries.
“You eaten yet?” he asks, eyeing me as he unrolls his silverware.
“I don’t normally eat breakfast.”
“Sit. Eat with me for a second.”
“I need to get things going or I’ll be behind.”
“I can help you when we’re done.”
I don’t have a rebuttal for that, so I make my way around the counter and take the stool beside him. He scoops up some eggs and holds his fork out for me to take. I eat it and pass the fork back to him. He turns on his stool to move closer to me and his knee slides between my legs. It looks innocent enough, but it doesn’t feel that way. He pushes his plate between us and holds up his fork so I can grab another bite. I take some hash browns, and he watches me chew.
“What?” I ask skeptically once I swallow.
He shakes his head and takes the fork back for another bite.