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)
Knowing I hadn’t crossed some line with him, I should have relaxed. Yet our eyes held, and I could practically feel the electricity sparking in the air.
Oh boy.
Chris broke our staring contest and cleared his throat. “So . . . uh . . . themes, huh?”
“Hmm?” It took me a second to understand the question. “Oh, right. Themes.” I pulled out my phone and leaned toward him as he leaned into me. He smelled good. Clean and sharp, with a hint of something smoky. Like a crisp fall day in the woods.
I showed him a couple of inspiration pics on my phone and sat back in my seat just as our food arrived.
Any discussion about the party ended as we ate.
I moaned under my breath as the spicy piquillo truffle sauce wreaked wonderful havoc on my taste buds.
Chris smirked around a bite of food and wiped sauce off his lips with a napkin. “Good?”
I nodded, still chewing, my eyes wide with pleasure.
He laughed and dove back into his food.
You always knew food was good if you couldn’t even make conversation.
“Amazing recommendation,” I finally managed as I reached for more.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
We smiled at each other, and I sighed inwardly as I realized I really had to discuss the party with him. “So I’m leaning toward a laid-back beach style to fit with the cookout. I can keep it gender-neutral, leaning more toward an elegant, softer palette rather than anything too colorful and too theme-like. But we can add touches to individualize it.”
“Agreed.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You really don’t care, do you?”
Chris huffed in amusement. “Hallie, I don’t know anything about this stuff. I’m trusting you with it.”
I swear I got goose bumps every time he said my name. “Okay, Captain. But I will be double-checking all my choices with you.”
“That’s fine by me.”
“So does this mean you’re staying in the city for a while, or do you return to Houston soon?”
Please say no.
Chris exhaled heavily, as if he were burdened by a physical weight on his chest. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing. I quit the air force, I turned down a second mission with NASA, and I have no clear direction. I spend my days uploading photos of me drinking coffee or playing with my aunt’s dog to Instagram.” He smirked unhappily. “I’m thirty-five years old, and I feel a little lost.” His features hardened. “I can’t believe I admitted that to you. I’m . . . Fuck.”
“Hey.” I ducked my head to meet his gaze. The turmoil in his eyes disturbed me. And it perturbed me how much I hated seeing this man upset. “It makes absolute sense to me you’re struggling to figure out which direction you want to go in. What you experienced must have been beyond overwhelming. I imagine it was a jolt to your sense of perspective.”
He shook his head. “Are you in my head or something?”
I smiled, feeling flush with pleasure. “I just imagine how I might feel if I were in your shoes.”
“I feel like I’ve failed. I was focused on my goal before and after I went up there. Now I’m back and . . . I just don’t know.”
“You don’t need to know yet.”
“It’s been almost seven months since I got back.”
“I don’t think this is something you can measure in time, Chris. You can’t force this. You just have to take each day at a time and your life will come together. Don’t let anyone pressure you, including yourself.”
He smiled at me, that gorgeous, boyish, sexy smile I’d grown infatuated with via his video letters. I felt that answering flutter in my stomach. I hoped my attraction didn’t show in my face, but I somehow thought that it might. “We have these meetings to discuss a party and somehow end up in deeper conversations.”
“Do you mind?” I held my breath.
Chris slowly shook his head. “Not at all.”
Trying not to grin like a kid at Christmas, I shrugged, attempting to be casual. “Then maybe we can be friends and event planner and client.”
“I’d like that. Very much.”
SEVENTEEN
Hallie
Wednesday 08:17
Captain, there’s a man with a large husky tucked into his backpack on my subway this morning. I’m still trying to figure out how he got him in there.
Wednesday 08:48
I need photo evidence, or I’ll never believe you. Also, are you going to start all of our correspondence with Captain?
Wednesday 09:32
Yes. It makes me feel like I’m on Star Trek. Also, do you think I’m a subway rookie? Attaching pic . . .
Wednesday 09:36
Husky in a backpack. I believe you. My morning was less exciting. Signed a lease on a new apartment. In Brooklyn.
Wednesday 10:51
Really? I live in Brooklyn too. Maybe we’re neighbors.
Wednesday 11:11
Wouldn’t that be nice.
Focus.
I’d had to tell myself to do that numerous times over the course of the day as Chris’s text from this morning lingered in my mind. Had it sounded flirty? Why did the word “nice” sound dirty in my head?