Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Eventually, Josh pulls back. “We should probably—” He nods to where a few more patrons have come in. No one glances our way, but New Yorkers have the habit of looking particularly unimpressed and snapping photos of you at the same time. We might end up on Page Six or, worse, Twitter.
Josh is out, so am I. But if we're dating, we're going to be the subject of every headline and breathless hot take. Which isn’t what I'm looking for when I don’t even know if Josh wants this to go beyond today. I take a few calming breaths, because the martini might be mostly olive, but that doesn’t stop that feeling close to giddiness from creeping in. “So yeah, that tournament. I don’t know. You were frowning, and checking my ass out and also texting someone.”
“My ex. I left stuff at his place. When I got there, he opened a drawer of other people’s shirts that he accumulated and just told me to take the ones that were mine.”
“Ouch. No wonder you looked like a human rain delay.”
His eyebrows go up in question.
I motion with my hand above my head. “You had a little storm cloud and everything.”
He laughs at that, not an on-field Spencer laugh like when he swipes me out stealing, but a real genuine Josh laugh. “You want to know what I remember from that tournament? You kept goofing around—”
“Thanks.”
“And still whupped everyone’s ass at golf. I was kind of impressed.”
“Only kind of?”
“Okay, so you were hot, and funny, and seemed like you were having a good time without taking everything so seriously, and if I wasn’t in the process of being broken up with by someone who didn’t think he was dating me, I probably would have asked you to get a drink that day.”
Well, it's a whole new ballgame today with Josh. Something in him unlocked. And I want to keep turning the key.
I press my thigh against his, pushing against that muscular leg under the table. “I’d have said yes, Josh.”
He dips his face, smiles a little shyly. It’s so damn cute how he can go from being bold enough to order me to shoot all over his pecs to borderline bashful.
The more I learn about the secret mind of Josh Spencer, the more I want to get to know him both in bed and out of bed.
That also means I want to know why he put up a wall that night in September. “So tell me something. Why’d you say no the night I asked you to grab a beer? After the game. Outside your clubhouse.”
Josh scoff-laughs. “You remember that? Every detail?”
Time for me to blow his mind. “I remember when guys I want turn me down.”
“What do you know? I usually remember when hot, funny men ask me out. So I remember every detail too.” Josh fiddles with the label on his beer then shrugs. “But it’s probably different for you because you get it so often.”
I stare hard at him like gimme a break, Josh. “On a first date,” I correct, then I drain most of my martini, which tastes like olives and slightly warming gin. “Less frequently for the second.”
He arches a skeptical brow. “This is in New York?”
“Yeah. Let’s go with a not-insignificant portion of Manhattan.”
“Huh. Didn’t realize that there were that many stupid guys on this island.”
“Well, technically you’d be one of them, Josh,” I say, taking my time with his name, enjoying the feel of it. The possibility of saying it another day, then another. Enjoying too the images playing out in my head right now. The things I want to do to him. “If I weren’t getting on a plane in a few hours . . .”
He gives me a slow smile. “Yeah?”
I nod, slow and long, making my meaning clear. “The things we could do.”
“Bet I’d like those things.”
“Bet we both would,” I rasp out. “As long as you’re not so stupid the next time I ask you to go home with me.”
That smile he keeps flashing my way is full of all sorts of promise. “Well, sometimes, I can be pretty fucking stupid. But I’m working on it.”
8
Josh
I’m also working on what’s next for me.
What’s next for him is a flight to Florida. Chris is going to be out that door in five minutes. Maybe this is my one shot with him. But do I just say Hey, you want to do this again? And maybe again? I don’t entirely have the best track record of consistency with Chris, but then I don’t know if he does either when it comes to the stuff I want—to be important to someone. To matter.
I want to be the guy someone depends on, and I want someone to rely on me. I also want to get him naked for a good long while.