Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
We can flirt and be friends or acquaintances now, but if it goes on the way he wants it to, we'll end up wanting to cross the street when we see the other person walking toward us. It's inevitable, the bitterness and hatred that will soon follow.
Honestly, I'd rather have everything come to a head now and us part ways if that's how it's going to be. I already feel a certain level of impressiveness, and the man just grabbed takeout from The Brew and Chew. I'm not that easy to impress these days, if I ever was in the first place, and that will end up with me feeling all the things which will really suck when it's over. I know better than to think I could have more out of life than the shitty hands I've been dealt, even if there's the urge inside of me to ride the ride until I get bucked off.
Loneliness is better than having and losing as far as I'm concerned.
"Do you not like those chips?" he asks, pointing to my plate.
"No," I tell him because it's easier than explaining the truth.
"Do you mind?" he asks, reaching for them when I shake my head.
He tosses a few in his mouth, chewing before speaking again.
"What's your favorite flavor of chip?"
I pull in a deep breath, hating the way he simply smiles at my growing frustration.
"The truth?"
He nods. "Always the truth."
I swallow down all the hateful things that come to mind. It's not this man's fault that my life is so hard, and taking my frustrations out on him serves no purpose. It doesn't even make me feel good when I get angry at him. If anything, it makes me feel worse.
"The truth is that I love chips. All chips," I say, huffing a humorless laugh when he stops mid-reach for another handful of chips off my plate. "But I can't eat all my favorite things because I'll gain weight. Since I don't have time for the gym and men are assholes that don't tip for good service but rather tip based on the percentage they think I might be interested in them, I have to watch my weight."
He's silent as he lifts his paper napkin to his mouth.
"I tip for good service," he says.
"You stare at my ass every time I walk away."
"You can't possibly know that.”
"Eyes in the back of your head are handed out to every woman when she becomes responsible for children."
His smile is quick and wide. "My mom used to say the same thing. You can't blame me for looking at your ass. It's incredible. "
"Thank you, but it wouldn't be if I ate all the things I wanted to eat."
"You can come to the gym with me if you want. I have free passes saved up for a year, and it wouldn't cost you anything."
"Sweet baby Jesus," I mutter and drop my head into my hands. " Just when I think you're actually paying attention to me."
"That's not fair," he says. "I do pay attention to you."
"Did you miss the part about me having to work two jobs to pay bills? That I don't have time to date?"
"I think your money woes are going to be over very soon," he says.
"I can't afford to play the lottery," I remind him.
He chuckles, his smile wide, eyes lighting up.
It's a damn shame the situation I'm in because if things were different, I wouldn't hesitate to spend as much time with him as I could manage.
"All of these excuses you have make it sound like dating me would be a bad thing."
I stand from the table, a thank you for lunch on my lips, but he stands too, coming around to my side of the table and standing right in front of me.
"Any man worth his weight, Claire, makes his woman's life easier, not harder. I'm not here to increase your burden. I want to lighten it."
I don't pull my face away when he leans down to kiss me. It isn't a passionate kiss. It's something much scarier. It leaves me wanting more than just a couple of quick romps between the sheets. It shoots possibilities through my head of what a life with him could be like, and I know just how dangerous that can be.
"Walker, I—"
My mouth snaps close when his phone rings, but he pulls it from his pocket without giving me room. Every other man I was even remotely dating would slink away to answer it or they'd say it wasn't important and just let it ring so as to not raise suspicions of why another woman might be calling him.
He connects the call and puts it to his ear. I hate the way it makes me feel when I hear another female on the other end of the line.