Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“Me, either. Let’s share.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll also take an order of eggplant rollatini.”
“Um … can you cancel my Caesar salad then?” I asked the waitress.
After she left our table, I opened my napkin and draped it over my lap, then took a drink of my water. Hunter watched me intently.
“What?”
He shrugged. “Just looking at you.”
“Well, don’t do that.”
“Don’t look at you?” He arched a brow. “It’s kind of hard to sit across from someone and have a conversation without looking at them.”
“I meant don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“All smoldering and stuff.”
“I’m smoldering?”
I exhaled. “Can we just have lunch as friends? No sex talk, no you looking all sexy and staring at me, no pressure.”
“Does this mean you’re turning down what I proposed earlier?”
“I haven’t decided on that yet.”
“Okay, then I’ll try not to stare. But the looking all sexy thing just comes naturally.”
We laughed, and it seemed to break the tension—until my cell phone rang and I looked at the caller ID. SUPER flashed on the screen.
“I’m sorry. It’s my building super. I need to take this.”
I answered, assuming it was Jimmy, the regular maintenance guy. “Hello?”
“My favorite tenant, I hear you need my services?” The voice on the other end made my skin crawl. It wasn’t the super. It was the creep who owned the building.
“Oh. Hi, Damon. I called the super this morning because of a small issue. But it’s not a big deal. I don’t think you need to get involved.”
“Are you home?”
“No, actually, I’m out.”
“What time will you be home? I’ll come take a look at that drain for you.”
I had no idea what time Izzy would be home, and I tried to avoid being alone with him at all costs. “Um … I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Probably not for a few hours.”
“How about five?”
Ugh. Why couldn’t the super just fix it for me like he’d do for every other tenant? “It’s really not a big deal, Damon. Jimmy can fix it when he has time. I can use the bathroom sink for now.”
“I’ll see you at five.”
“I might be a little later.”
“Call me when you’re back at home.”
I managed to stifle a groan. “Fine.”
After I hung up, I couldn’t hide my frustration.
Hunter looked concerned. “What’s up? Everything okay?”
“Do you remember when I told you my husband’s best friend was nice enough to help me find a place to live? But in exchange for that, he thought I should sleep with him?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that was the asshole on the phone. Damon owns my building. I dread anytime anything goes wrong in my apartment, because instead of the super coming to fix it, Damon insists on showing up. He doesn’t go as far as pushing himself on me or anything, but he’s tried to kiss me before, and he constantly asks me out, and it just makes me really uncomfortable.”
The way Hunter’s jaw ticked was endearing. “I’m going home with you later. He can fix the sink while I’m there.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“No, it is. And while I’m at it, I need to apologize for being such a pushy asshole. I didn’t see it until you just told me about that guy.”
“You aren’t an asshole.” I smiled. “Pushy, maybe. But it’s not the same thing. I’ve never felt like if I told you no, and sounded like I meant it, you wouldn’t back off. Damon, on the other hand, I don’t trust. I don’t even like to be in the same room as him.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll back off anyway. You change your mind on wanting to be anything but friends, I’m here. Otherwise, I’ll cool it.”
As much as I’d said that was what I wanted, and knew it was for the best, it made me sad. I forced a smile. “Okay.”
The rest of our lunch was nice, but the mood definitely shifted. There was almost an awkwardness to our conversation. Hunter would relax and start to say something flirty, and then he’d catch himself and dial it back. It was as if he didn’t know how to be friends with me. At one particular point, when he was running his finger along the top of his glass and looking exceptionally tongue-tied, I called him on it.
“You have no women friends, do you?”
He looked up from the glass. “Sure I do. I’m friends with lots of women.”
“Who?”
“Anna, for one.”
“She’s not your friend. She’s your buddy’s wife.”
“So it’s either one or the other?”
“Do you have any single women you’re friends with?”
“Sure. At work.”
“Okay. Who?”
“I go to lunch with Renee from the office sometimes. She’s a project manager.”
“Is she dating anyone?”
“I don’t think so.”
“How old is she?”
He shrugged. “Mid-sixties, maybe.”
I shook my head. “She doesn’t count. She’s safe. How about any single friends in their twenties or thirties?”
“No. But there’s a good reason for that.”
“What’s the reason?”
“Men and women who are mating age and attracted to each other can’t be friends. It’s primal.”