Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
“And you killed it.” She casts a surprised glance my way, and I add, “I saw your report while I was in a hotel room with Clyde. You did a great job. I couldn’t look away.”
“Yeah?” she asks, leaning closer.
“Yeah,” I assure her. “When you’re around, I have a hard time looking anywhere else.”
She exhales, her full lips parting softly. “Bear, I—”
Before she can finish, the bartender appears before us, asking in a frazzled, but forcefully cheery voice, “What can I get you two?”
Dipsy flinches in her seat before turning toward the young brunette in the Santa hat with a smile. “I’ll have a glass of Chardonnay, please.”
“And I’ll have a hot toddy,” I say, motioning toward the other room. “And the man with the gray hair in the Christmas sweater would like to order one for his table, as well.”
The bartender nods, reaching for the wine beneath the bar. “Got it. Anything else for you? You can order burgers or sandwiches here if you aren’t feeling the buffet.”
“A burger actually sounds amazing,” Dipsy says, arching a brow my way. “What about you, Bear?”
“Yeah, I’d love a burger, too,” I say.
“Got it. Thanks for your patience. The food should be out in a few.” The bartender finishes our drinks and steps away to punch our order into the computer. I pull out my wallet, extracting a ten-dollar bill to leave on the bar.
Dipsy studies me over the rim of her wineglass, seeming pleased.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re a generous tipper,” she says. “That’s hot.”
I arch a brow. “Yeah?”
She sips her wine, looking a little flustered, but not averting her gaze as she adds, “Yeah. You’re going to make someone a very lucky woman someday.”
“Someone?” I ask, hoping she can hear in my voice how much I want that someone to be her. How much I want to get past whatever went wrong in September and give this thing growing between us another chance. We were online, long-distance friends for months before we met in person at the cat convention, connecting on everything from our love of cats to our passion for junk food to our belief that no dream is impossible if you’re willing to keep working to make it come true.
I’ve missed my friend the past few months as much as I’ve missed the tempting woman who stole my heart with a single kiss.
“Yes, someone…” she murmurs, tipping her head closer.
I mirror her movement, my pulse picking up as her lips near mine. We’re inches away from our second kiss, a kiss I hope to transition into a serious conversation about giving dating a shot, when a child’s voice shouts, “Mommy, it’s a lizard! A lizard with big teeth!”
Dipsy and I rear back, our horrified gazes connecting for a beat before a woman screams. “Alligator! There’s an alligator in the Chex Mix!”
I jerk my attention toward her voice to see that she’s correct. Alligator Man is passed out in his seat again, snoring, while somehow Gavin has found his way across the lounge, up onto a cabinet, and into a bowl of holiday Chex Mix.
The woman’s panic spreads like wildfire. Soon, half the lounge is screaming or crying, while the remainder streams toward the exit amidst calls for security.
Dipsy and I stay seated as the first wave dashes past us. But when Gavin slithers out of the Chex Mix with a chirp, baring his baby alligator teeth as he weaves his way toward the cappuccino machine, Dipsy bolts from her seat so fast, she nearly knocks over the stool.
“Gotta go,” she says, catching it before it tumbles over. “Can’t stay in Alligator Land. Not even for a juicy and delicious burger.”
Gathering my crutches, I slip out of my chair. “Lead the way. I’m following you.”
Gratitude floods her expression. “Thank you so much.” She pushes up on tiptoe to press a kiss to my cheek, a kiss I feel all the way through the lounge, past the luggage storage area where Dipsy collects my jerky-filled suitcase, and down the elevator to where my scooter waits for us by the entrance.
I’m still thinking about it when I slide into the scooter’s leather seat and nod toward the slightly raised section on the back. “Get on. I’ll be your getaway car.”
After a beat of hesitation, Dipsy climbs onto the seat behind me, her thighs on either side of mine, her arms wrapped around my waist, and her scratchy panties so close to the small of my back, I can feel the stiff fabric poking through my sweater to irritate the skin beneath.
She must be absolutely miserable.
As I turn the scooter on, I tell her, “I’m taking you shopping. Now. No arguments.”
“Bossy, bossy,” she murmurs, but as I pull out into the terminal, zooming toward the shops in the distance, she doesn’t protest.
A beat later, I feel her cheek resting on my back and my chest goes tight.