Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 107673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Good. Usual.” My nose guided me to the stove where my culinary guy had skill. I didn’t lift the lid, careful not to disturb the magic happening there. “Smells better than decent.” I cocked my head back toward Dash. “How was your day?”
“Good. Usual,” he chimed in with a wink. “Any dogs today to cause you to sprint faster than them?”
Of course, I laughed. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to have a dog or two chasing me through the neighborhoods. Me running from animals was definitely the only real cardio I got anymore. Well, that and sex. We were pretty vigorous in the bedroom. Both had to count as calories burned.
“I wish I was fast enough to outrun those fuckers. Their teeth hurt. A rooster came for me today. What’s for dinner tonight?” My empty stomach growled.
“It’s a chicken and rice dish I found online. A Gordon Ramsay recipe.”
“Nice.” I forced my feet to move away from the stove, grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator. “I’m goin’ for a quick rinse.”
“Hold up.” His tone shifted gears. Dash had a way of being direct, without seeming so. This was different. My brows shot up. We weren’t big on TV, but I could sense an unwelcome series creeping into my future.
“I don’t want to watch anything with a meet-cute, or fashion sewin’, or bakin’ in England. You can watch all that on your own.”
He gave me the reaction I wanted which was a solid laugh followed by him coming to me. His charm still left my knees weak. This time was no different. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to all that handsomeness heading my way. The way he walked up on me had my ass hitting the edge of the counter. He came between my parted legs, and I casually circled an arm around him, it was where they always wanted to be. All right, I’d watch anything but the meet-cute if he were in my arms.
“How about the Blair Witch Project? We can turn off the lights and snuggle together. Think scary thoughts,” he suggested. A psychological horror was off my list too. It fucked with my head too much.
“Wait, do I get a vote in this, or do I have to do it no matter what?” I asked, already knowing the answer. I’d be going along no matter how he phrased whatever was about to land.
“Good point.” Dash stepped away to lean his ass against the counter across from me. So he’d been buttering me up.
“My parents are coming to town…”
Oh hell no. He should’ve approached this differently. Let me get cleaned up, maybe have a beer. I enjoyed the cold bitter flavor, and I liked being clean even more. My ass pushed off the counter on its own accord.
“Dash, no,” I began, lifting the uniform shirt over my head. “It’s only been around four months. I won’t know how to act around them. Why don’t you just tell them? You know how to handle it.”
“Be yourself. They’ll see why I love you. The first time, we’ll roll in, meet and greet my parents. Then the following day we’ll have lunch at the club where my brothers and sisters and their families will be. You’ll remember Joy…”
“Club, like country club?” I interrupted. “No, I can’t do that. I’m not comfortable meetin’ your parents yet.” The path to the laundry room was on my way to the bedroom. I tossed my shirt on the dryer and kicked off my work boots. Dash padded after me, altering my normal way of undressing in here before my shower. I couldn’t get trapped in this room with him all in my face, trying to change my mind. My altered course had me undressing further as I started down the hall to the bedroom.
“I can’t just say hello and leave. That seems rude.” Fuck, I’d dreaded this meeting since I first realized I was going to have to meet his family at some point. I’d naively hoped he’d handle them. Dash viewed situations how he wanted them to be, not actuality.
How on freaking earth was I supposed to dine at a fancy club? Remembering which fork to use was a serious problem for me. No matter how I tried, from one etiquette training session to another, I couldn’t retain any of it. It seemed overly complicated for no reason.
“They won’t have time for us. They’ll be swamped with engagements. Half an hour, max,” Dash said, trailing behind me. Clad in my knee-high socks and underwear, I paced the bedroom before going inside the bathroom. I attempted to shut the door in his face, but he bounced it back on me.
“When?” I finally said, dropping down on my ass on the closed commode.
“Next weekend,” he answered calmly, like that wasn’t only seven days away.