Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
I shivered.
“You smell good,” he murmured there.
“So do you,” I murmured to his thick, curling hair.
Abruptly, he lifted up, pulled away, grabbed my hand, and tugged me into his house.
Okay, so I knew where we stood.
The man was still a tease.
The problem with that was, it was fantastic.
Which totally blew.
Once I recovered from the pressed-to-the-door antics, and he had me in his kitchen and took the paper bag of wine out of my hand, I looked around.
Massive, open great room that included the most humongous, attractive, three-sided sectional I’d ever seen. The seats were deep. The couch was facing a built-in unit, in which was an enormous eighty-inch flat screen, as well as shelves with a lot of books, some photo frames, and a few mementos I made a mental note to peruse later.
Behind that was a seating area that held more attractive furniture, including a big double-wide chair and ottoman with a sloping lamp over it where, if one were to read, it would be the perfect reading spot.
All of this was surrounded by windows that gave a view to his backyard, which looked like a straight-up resort. Amazing landscaping. An interesting shaped pool. A pergola on one side that looked covered in something like wisteria. A built-in grill. Great patio furniture. And a fabulous high-top outside table with six stools around it.
Rounding out the inside was a dark wood oval dining room table just inside the front door with a striking gold and globe chandelier.
And the huge-ass kitchen where we were.
Eric was pulling down wide-bowled, gleaming wineglasses from a glass-fronted cabinet.
“I take it the PI business is lucrative,” I remarked, and his black eyes came to me. “Not being rude, but it’s hard not to notice your place is the absolute shit.”
His lips curved and he murmured, “Thanks, Jess. Glad you like it.”
He set the glasses down, pulled the wine out of the bag, looked at the label and whistled.
This meant he knew good wine.
Probably not a surprise, considering his tenure in California.
“Honey, you didn’t have to do this,” he said softly, holding the wine my way.
“Turner, I did. You’ve been super cool with me through some pretty tough shit,” I replied.
He leaned in.
I held my breath.
He kissed my nose.
I frowned.
He pulled back, caught my frown, and started laughing.
“You’re a tease,” I accused.
“Takes one to know one,” he muttered, opening a drawer to nab a wine key.
“I’m not a tease,” I retorted.
He aimed his eyes to the vicinity of my shorts, legs and shoes.
Okay.
Point taken.
I smirked.
He started laughing again, but it abruptly stopped when his phone on the kitchen island clattered.
I saw the screen light up and caught the name Savannah, before he reached out and swiped the text notification to clear it.
“I can’t pretend I didn’t see her name,” I said quietly. “Is everything cool?”
“No, since you’re finally here, in those shorts, bringing good wine, and she’s pulling her usual shit.”
Oh man.
“Ummmm…” I drew that out, because he was normally open, and we’d cleared a big hurdle, but we were in no place for me to expect things that weren’t yet mine to have.
He popped the cork and went right to pouring, not bothering with the aerator I saw in the drawer where he got the wine key (because that vintage didn’t need it, so he really did know wine), and he did this being the Eric I was coming to know.
He shared.
“Our divorce was final two years ago. She’s in regular contact.”
“Okay.”
He put the bottle down, picked up a glass and handed it to me. He then picked up his own but neither of us drank.
Instead, he lowered the boom.
“Found out this morning, she’s in town. Phoenix. She’s scouting a location to open another restaurant.”
“Holy shit,” I whispered. “Is she…moving here?”
“According to the conversation I had with her this morning, that’s the threat,” he murmured.
“Threat?”
“Jessie.” He sighed.
And one could say it was a wallop of a sigh.
He carried on and explained why it was such a wallop of a sigh.
“I don’t want to sound like a dick. I also don’t want to be talking about this. But we are, because Savannah is Savannah, and no fuckin’ way I want you to see her name on my phone and wonder.”
“You really don’t have to tell me,” I promised.
“I really do because I think you finally get I’m interested in you. I want to get to know you better. And to do that, I want to spend time with you, and that time shouldn’t have you wondering why my ex is texting me.”
Oh man.
That felt great.
“So you need to know, she and I are over,” he continued. “I don’t want her here. She’s no longer in my life. I don’t want an antagonistic relationship with her. In the beginning, I was good with adapting to friends. She wasn’t. She wanted me back. She is where she is in her profession because she doesn’t give up. But I’m not a recipe to perfect or a critic to win over, and she isn’t getting that. So now, I’d prefer no relationship at all.” He grinned. “And I finally got this woman at my house I’ve been hoping would get her head out of her ass about me. So I really don’t want her a part of tonight.”