Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“So was I,” Nate says softly.
My heart swells, and I squeeze his hand harder. “And I didn’t want to lose the chance to talk to him, so when Nate told me he was manning the pie toss, I made sure to show up right at the end.” I’m telling the story to Nate now. Only Nate, as if everyone else is gone.
“I didn’t think you were going to show up,” he admits, his voice lower.
“Why would you have thought that?” I ask, surprised to learn this. “I was determined to see you.”
His blue eyes are vulnerable. “It all seemed too good to be true.”
Oh, god. I don’t think I can survive the next hour of this meal with the way my heart is galloping.
“Then, I threw a cherry pie at him, so it’s not like everything was perfect,” I say, so we don’t totally combust from the intimacy of this confession.
Our dinner companions laugh, but I hardly notice them.
Nate wiggles a brow. “Or maybe it was because we had to go to my place.”
He can’t possibly be sharing that part of the story, can he? But strangely, I don’t mind. We’re married. We’re supposed to like each other. We do like each other.
“And then later,” Nate says, fading to black over the moments in his kitchen and on his couch, “all I wanted was to see Hunter again.”
My heart thumps.
“But he had to go to England,” Ilene interjects, her tone sad.
“I did. But I desperately wanted to see Nate again too,” I say to the others now, widening my focus to include the audience.
“For a few days I wasn’t sure what to do. But then I texted you,” Nate says, giving us a new second act.
“And we kept writing to each other,” I add, improvising our romance for Ilene and Yasmin, but also for us. We’re in on the private joke and it’s fantastic.
“And talking,” Nate says, his eyes twinkling brighter now as we keep going, “every night. And then there was this weekend before training camp where I flew over here. I had to see Hunter.”
That fictional weekend was spectacular. “We had a great time. We went on bike rides around the city,” I say.
“Went to the theater. The movies,” Nate says, and his smile is just…wow. It’s confident and inviting.
“What did you see?” Yasmin asks.
Nate’s eyes never leave mine. “No idea. We left early,” he says, his voice a low hum.
“Yeah, that was a great play,” I say with a laugh that the rest of the table echoes, the soundtrack to our seduction.
“And when I was in Los Angeles for meetings, he came down to see me.” I add another scene to our fictional romance. I don’t want to stop telling it.
“We had the best time getting to know each other.” Nate’s grin makes me feel like a rock star. With a deep breath, he links his fingers more tightly with mine. “So, I asked Hunter to elope, and he said yes.”
It’s official. I’m infatuated. “And here we are,” I say, relieved we’re done with the fable, but a little devastated too. I want to live in that story. I want to do all those things with him. I want to feel what it’s like to be that guy.
“That is so lovely. Thank you for sharing,” Yasmin says.
“Hunter, I’m so glad you could join us at Webflix,” Ilene says. The message isn’t lost on me—join her tonight and join this company. “Though, I hate to be a Debbie Downer, but what are you two going to do when Nate returns to California?”
It’s like someone flicked on the lights in the movie theater at the end of the show, revealing the sticky floors and discarded popcorn.
Reality is coming for us in a few days. We are only temporary husbands, making the most of our time. I don’t break character when I answer, “I suppose I’ll miss him terribly when he’s gone.”
Nate swallows, roughly, maybe nervously. Then he sighs. “Me too.”
Ilene whimpers. “That’s such a shame.”
“Yeah, it totally is,” I say, and this dinner can’t end soon enough.
It’s nearly two hours later when we finally reach our hotel. We cut across the lobby to the elevators, racing to be alone. Once we’re inside and the doors close, Nate crowds me against the wall. “That dinner drove me wild,” he says, then ravages my mouth. When he lets go, he’s staring at me like I’m his second meal.
“Same here,” I say, breathless—curious too. “How did you know all that horse stuff?”
“My sister was into horses. She rode growing up.”
“You charmed my boss,” I say.
He angles his head in a question. “What about you? Did I charm you?”
As if he has to ask. “I am beyond charmed.”
Nate devastates me with another kiss. It’s hot and deep and it feels like the start of something.