Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
But she takes her time fixing the loose table leg. Just when I’m about to give in and say, Well, when, Juliet, when? she sets down the screwdriver.
“Now?” she asks.
The dragon thumps his chest. Yes. I can absolutely take her out tonight.
That’s a discovery—I can’t wait for this not-date this evening.
To help her of course. That’s it. That’s all.
I sort of believe my own lie.
That afternoon, Juliet stretches out in the sitting room on a rose-color satin chaise lounge—which is not tempting at all—testing whether she wants to keep it for her San Francisco apartment, while she selects the first dude. His name is Jared, his dark hair is perfectly trimmed, he’s in real estate a few towns over, and I hate him on principle.
But I can’t let on. Instead, I put on my shrink hat as I review his profile on her phone while she shifts around on the unfairly sexy piece of furniture.
It’s unfair, too, that she looks so damn good lounging on her side, dressed in simple leggings and an oversized T-shirt that reveals a collarbone I want to kiss.
I’m careful as I sit next to her on a small patch of satin real estate. Careful not to accidentally touch her, because I’d probably groan. Or growl. I focus on my job as her dating coach, studying this dude in detail even if Jared makes me grind my teeth, especially when he uses those irritatingly trendy terms. But if this is who she likes then this is who she likes. I suck down all the negativity since I need insight into her preferences if I’m going to do this dating coach thing right. “Tell me why you picked him,” I say.
She sits up straight, her chestnut hair swishing as she rises, then catching on her lip gloss.
“Oops,” she says, swiping at the strands with her free hand and brushing a finger against her pretty lips.
My gaze zeroes in on those lips. Soft, lush, full. The first time I tasted her lips was eight years ago, down by the beach a few miles away after our first date. We’d gone to the retro arcade and hogged the Frogger machine all night, trading off low scores because we were both that bad at the game. When we left, I took her hand in mine, thrilling at how good—how arousing—holding her hand was. We wandered down to the dunes where the waves lapped the shore peacefully and, like when I’d asked her out, I didn’t waste a second. I tugged her close, then said, “I have a confession.”
“Tell me.”
“I can’t stop thinking about kissing you. I’ve wanted to since the second I saw you at the store.”
She nibbled on the corner of her red lips, then said in the flirtiest, most inviting tone I’d ever heard, “Then stop thinking.”
I cupped her cheeks, dropped my mouth to hers, and kissed her deeply, the kind of kiss that blotted out the world. Or maybe the world narrowed to her and me and the soft lull of the waves under the moonlight.
I got lost in that kiss.
I get a little lost in the memory now too, until I blink at the sound of her shifting around on the satin chaise, mere inches from me. It roots me back to the present. To my reality. To a world where I’m the guy who helps others. That’s my specialty—teaching romance, not doing romance.
She’s answering my question, telling me why she picked Jared. “He’s in real estate, so he’s not afraid of commitment,” she says.
Huh? “What?” It comes out a little incredulous. Or maybe a lot.
She heaves an amused sigh. “A mortgage is a commitment, Monroe. So if he’s in real estate, he’s used to mortgages. Hello!”
Oh. Wow. This is harder than I thought. “Okaaaaaay,” I say.
“What? You don’t agree?”
I mean, maybe. I rent. But that’s not the point. I need to get more intel ahead of this date. “What else drew you to him?”
“He goes to the gym, so he cares about his health. That’s good. I like to do my functional fitness videos and yoga so I can feel capable and healthy and strong, so that’s another thing we both like.”
“That’s important to you—having those sorts of things in common?”
“Well, yeah. Isn’t it to you?”
“Core values are important to me. If health is a core value, then sure,” I say.
“And he said lately he’s really into slow dating,” she adds, lifting her phone and waggling his stupid profile at me. I mean, his profile.
Yeah, I hadn’t heard that term before I read it in his bio, but I can figure it out. “And you like to take things slow?”
She shrugs noncommittally. “It’s more that slow dating means he’s open to the real thing. To slowing things down and getting to know someone. You know, the opposite of swipe thumb.”