Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Or… he’s playing me somehow.
I narrow my eyes with suspicion, which only amuses him.
“Want to go double or nothing?” he suggests. “I need a date to the wedding the weekend after this one, too.”
It was a lucky guess. It had to be. Catcher in the Rye was too obvious. Anyone who graduated high school or college probably could have figured that out. I went far too easy on him.
“Deal,” I reply, confident he’ll never go two for two. I consider the possibilities again, deciding to focus on a piece of literature that tends to be favored by women over men.
Something romantic.
And pertinent.
I lift my chin. “We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but this would be nothing if you really liked him.”
I’m glad to see Aaron has a sense of humor and isn’t offended, for he tips his head back and laughs before bringing his gaze back to mine. He shakes his head, as if to say, “Touché,” and wags a finger.
A flush of triumph rolls through me, only to be quickly killed when he says, “Pride and Prejudice. Jane Austen.”
“What in the absolute hell?” I mutter. “Are you cheating somehow?”
He holds his arms out, making a show of turning slowly. When facing me again, he asks, “With what? My secret quote book stashed somewhere on me?”
“You intentionally set me up,” I accuse.
“No,” he drawls, correcting my misstatement. “I presented a challenge. You accepted it.”
“I feel played,” I mutter.
“Had you just asked if I were well-read first, you might have declined my challenge,” he points out. “Not my fault my dad was an English professor and I’m pretty sure I can quote more classics than you—a bookstore owner—can.”
Before I can even respond, the door to my shop flies open, the tinkling bells going berserk and the wooden frame encasing glass rattling hard when it hits a table. The woman who enters immediately ducks her head in embarrassment, offering me an apologetic shrug and mouthing the words, “Sorry.”
That woman would be my best friend, Veronica. She’s everything I’m not in the looks department. Long legs, busty, and with California golden-blonde hair. She’s sporting a designer workout outfit, and she’s carrying a specialty coffee from a shop down the street.
Aaron glances at her, but he doesn’t linger, giving his attention right back. Pulling his phone off the strap around his bicep, he orders, “Give me your phone number.”
Everything within me wants to deny him, but that’s mostly self-loathing I’d misjudged him so much and let myself fall right into a date with a man I still have all kinds of danger alarms going off about.
With a grudge in my tone, I rattle off my number. He types it into his phone, then immediately dials me. My phone is in my purse, under the counter behind me, but I ignore it. He’s only calling to ensure I have his number, too. I’ll input his contact info, then come up with some excuse to back out later. A simple text should suffice.
“I can see what’s going on in that pretty head of yours,” he teases, and my cheeks fire up. “And I get it… you could easily just text me to cancel after I leave, but that will be a matter for your conscience. I won fair and square, so I guess I’ll just have to see how much honor you have.”
A tiny growl wells in my throat that he would dare throw the gauntlet down. Integrity is important to me, so I know there’s no way in hell I’ll cancel now.
“You can text me your address, though,” he says with a wink as he grabs the bag from the counter. “So I know where to pick you up on Saturday. Be ready around five PM.”
I dart my glance behind him to Veronica. She’s acting like she’s only perusing my merchandise, but she’s totally listening in.
Turning my attention to Aaron, I tilt my chin upward. “Not about to hand my address out to a perfect stranger. You can send me the address of where the wedding is taking place, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Fair enough,” he replies as he turns away from me, heading toward the door. Veronica is in his way, but he just gives her a polite nod and moves around her. She fans herself dramatically behind his back to indicate she thinks he’s hot as hell, and I can’t wait to tell her I’m sure he can see her reflection in the glass of the door.
When Aaron grabs the handle to pull it open, he looks back. “If you want to get to know me better before the wedding, give me a call. We can go out for a drink or dinner. Or we can just talk about classic literature if you’d like.”
My face gets even hotter, another pointed reminder I’d totally misjudged him and we actually have something in common.