Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“Eh, we all make bad decisions, especially when there are a lot of margaritas involved.”
“That’s the truth.” I clink my paper cup against his then lift it to my lips. “So, what is it exactly that you do for a living?”
“I’m a hockey scout.”
I nearly spit spray my coffee in his pretty face. Instead, I suck it back in and cough uncontrollably. The kind of hacking that makes tears spring to my eyes and breathing difficult.
“Are you okay?” Sidney’s eyes are wide.
I hold up a hand. “Just.” Cough. “Went.” Hack. “Down.” Wheeze. “The wrong.” Cough. “Tube.”
He rounds the table and pats me on the back. I raise my hands over my head and the coughing finally stops.
Sidney’s hand is still on my back. The warmth seeps into my skin, and I inconveniently consider how it would feel if that hand of his touched me in other exciting places.
But he’s a freaking hockey scout. And I’ve spent the past decade and a half avoiding guys who have anything to do with hockey. Is it entirely rational? Not really. But while my daughter’s sperm donor has long since left the league, his brief role in our lives resulted in real trepidation around men affiliated with the sport.
“I need to get back to the office,” I blurt.
Sidney frowns. “Oh. Okay. I can walk you out.”
“You don’t need to do that.” I’m already out of my chair, my purse slung over my shoulder, coffee in hand.
“I really don’t mind.” Sidney follows me to the door and holds it open, then falls into step beside me. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No. I just need to get back to work. I have a meeting this afternoon.” At two, so I have oodles of time, but I’m freaking out.
We reach the crosswalk, but before I can press the button Sidney steps in front of me. “What just happened?” His voice is soft, eyes too. “It seemed like things were going well until I told you what I do for a living and now you’re bolting.”
I’m all discombobulated, and when that happens, sometimes my mouth works independently of my brain. “My daughter’s father was a professional hockey player, and she has no idea, and I don’t plan to tell her unless it’s absolutely necessary because he’s a douche canoe and I don’t want him in our lives.” I slap a hand over my mouth. “Oh my God, if you can just erase those words from your brain that would be great.” I glance toward the street. The crosswalk is counting down from twenty. “Thank you for the coffee. You’re kind and nice and really, really attractive, but this feels like six degrees of separation and I’m clearly a hot mess. You don’t want to date me.”
He cocks his head, a wry grin turning up the corner of his mouth. “I don’t?”
I shake my head. “I’m a lot to deal with on a good day, and this verbal diarrhea stuff happens more than I’d like.” I need to stop talking.
There are ten seconds left on the crosswalk. Nine. Eight…
I bite my lips together and make another terrible decision to distract Sidney and to keep myself from spewing more nonsense. I grab his tie and push up on my toes, mashing my lips against his.
For a moment, he stands there, unmoving and unresponsive. And then his palm settles on my lower back and he pulls me against him, the front of our bodies flush. His hand slides upwards, between my shoulder blades and then under my hair, gently cupping the back of my head as he angles his and parts his lips.
I do the same and his tongue slides against mine.
And I completely forget that this was supposed to be a distraction tactic. I release his tie and run my hand over his firm chest and grip his shoulder. I’m still holding my coffee in the other hand, which isn’t the most convenient, but it’s half full and dropping it so I can wrap myself fully around this man is both wasteful and littering. So, I keep holding it with one hand and him with the other.
Heat slams through my veins and desire makes everything below the waist tingle. I suck his bottom lip and he makes a low sound in the back of his throat when I follow with teeth.
The sound of horns blaring and someone calling out, “Get a room!” as they pass reminds me we’re on the sidewalk, across the street from my work.
I pull away and consider running across the street, but apparently, we’ve been making out so long the light has changed again.
I open my mouth, but for once, no words come out.
“I disagree.” Sidney’s eyes are hooded, and his gaze lingers on my lips.
“With what?”
“You said I don’t want to date you. And I disagree. I would very much like to see you again.”