Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
And I was pretty sure the sexual tension was mutual. She stared at my mouth a lot. That wasn’t easy to ignore.
Despite knowing I was feeling something toward her after watching her videos (I wouldn’t have gone to Darcy’s party otherwise), I hadn’t expected to feel this attracted to Hallie in person.
Yet, I knew doing anything about it was a terrible idea.
I was in a weird place in my life.
Starting a relationship with someone was not a smart thing to do right now, and I had no intention of pursuing anything romantic between us. But I couldn’t help but want to be around Hallie. I definitely wanted to be friends with her. There was something about her. . . . I felt like I could trust her, and there weren’t many people who came into my life I felt certain about like that. That seemed worth exploring, even if only in a friendship.
More than all my other reasons for not pursuing a romantic relationship with Hallie was the fact that I still hadn’t told her the truth about her videos. Until I did that, friendship could be the only thing on my mind.
My cell buzzed.
It was Hallie.
Sure. I’m free. Where will I meet you?
The grin stretched my lips wide as a wave of anticipation flooded over me.
She’d distracted me just when I most needed it.
SIXTEEN
Hallie
The sun hadn’t fully set as I walked toward the tapas bar on the Upper East Side. It wasn’t a long walk from the subway, but just long enough to get the old nerves going again. My knees shook, and my palms were ridiculously clammy. When Chris asked to meet me again so soon, I’d been ecstatic. I’d even fantasized that perhaps he longed for my company and not just to discuss his party. We’d had such a good time at our lunch that I thought the nervousness, the fluttering anticipation, would have dissipated by now.
I was wrong.
The tapas bar had a very traditional Spanish taverna appearance with its dark red painted exterior and small windows. It had a casual outdoor seating area, and I was glad everything about it looked laid-back because I was still dressed in my clothes from work. I hadn’t seen the point of going home to Brooklyn only to have to return to the city, so I’d stayed at the office.
“Hallie!”
The hair on the nape of my neck rose, and I turned.
Chris strolled down the sidewalk toward me, coming from the same direction I’d just come from. He wore a blue shirt beneath a black sweater that showed off his powerful arms, and he wore suit pants. He was preppy but in a really hot way.
I smiled and gave a little wave.
He grinned, slowing down to a halt, and I noted he hadn’t shaved in a few days. The stubble was good. Very good.
“I thought I saw you heading out of the subway before me. I was right.”
Chris traveled the subway? I’d assumed he was a cab kinda guy. “You didn’t call out to me before now, did you? I can be oblivious sometimes.”
“No.” He shook his head. “How are you?”
“Good. You?”
“I’m good now.” He gestured to the restaurant. “Shall we?”
“Sure.”
I turned to walk toward the entrance and almost stumbled at the feel of his warm hand pressing against the base of my spine. A flutter in my throat alerted me to the fact my heart had picked up pace. Trying not to tense or seem like I wasn’t enjoying his guiding hand on my back, I focused on putting one high-heeled foot in front of the other.
Without letting go of me, Chris reached out with his free hand and opened the door. Music and the hum of conversation, laughter, and dishes clattering spilled out. It was cozy inside, and I was momentarily distracted from Chris’s touch by the assault on my senses. The food aroma was heady and amazing, making me salivate. The Latin music was upbeat but not so loud that you couldn’t talk or hear yourself think. People sat at a bar eating tapas, as well at bistro tables and booths scattered throughout the room.
“Hola.” A dark-haired waiter approached us. “Bienvenido a Valeria’s. How may I help?”
Chris replied, “Hi. We have a table booked under Ortiz.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Sí, sí. Es un placer conocerle, Capitán Ortiz. Mi nombre es Víctor. Seré su mesero esta noche. Por aquí, por favor.” He gestured with his arm and then started walking in that direction.
I couldn’t speak Spanish beyond the basics, but it was clear from Victor’s expression that he knew who Chris was. I hadn’t expected people to recognize him, but apparently they did. As we followed, I noted Chris’s hand felt like it weighed heavier against my back.
I glanced up at him and saw a small frown between his brows, and his mouth was a little pinched, like he was tense.