Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I burst out laughing, pulling away from him.
I take my new drink from the flight attendant and hand her my original water glass, making a concerted effort not to touch Tate.
Although I’m sure he’s just playing with me, this back-and-forth is just what I need. I haven’t admitted it to Jamie or anyone, for that matter, but I’ve been a little scared about the whole dating thing. It’s been so long since I’ve done it, and my experience is so little to begin with. It’s only been a few weeks since the official end of my marriage, and I’ve felt a little frozen.
But this conversation with Tate? The ice is melting away.
“I didn’t see a wedding ring,” he says. “Does that mean there’s no Mr. Kapowski?”
I laugh. “Is that your slick way of asking if I’m married?”
He takes a drink, watching me over the rim. “I just want to know if I have any competition.”
“Competition? For what?”
“For you.”
This charming bastard. “You are so full of shit.”
“Am I?”
I take a long drink, giving my heart a chance to stop pounding against my ribs.
“Think about it,” he says. “You’re in your romance era. I’m in my bored era. We’re both just people looking for happy endings.”
“Your bored era?” I snort-laugh. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I’m bored. Dating has lost its luster. It’s the same routine over and over, and I’m tired of it. I’m ready for something real.”
My heart swells at his response even though I’m not entirely convinced it’s an honest answer. Maybe I’m cynical, but it’s hard to believe that a man like him wants to settle down. He’s gorgeous, young, and undoubtedly has his pick of women. He can’t make me believe he’s looking to settle down. I call bullshit.
I narrow my eyes skeptically.
“My friends are all married and having kids,” he says. “I’m quickly becoming the fun uncle who shows up on birthdays and holidays with loud, messy presents.”
I laugh. “I feel your pain on that one. My friends are having children now, and I’m the fun auntie.”
“Do you want kids?”
Do I want kids? Startled, I take another drink. That question is very personal and not fully straightforward. I’m not willing to discuss it with a random man on a plane.
“I’ll just say that I spent more time at home working on my cozy-girl persona than I do trying to pick up a man to make babies with,” I say.
“Like you have a hard time picking up men. Come on.”
I pull my sweater onto my shoulders before snuggling into the seat. “Picking up a man and picking up a man I’d have children with are two very different things.”
He nods as he processes that. “Fair. Now, what’s a cozy-girl persona?”
“Why are you asking so many questions?”
“How else do I get to know you?”
“You don’t.”
“Why not?”
I laugh, amused. “Because it doesn’t matter. We’re going to land in a bit, and you’ll never see me again, so why bother trying to get to know the nuts and bolts of my life?”
“Women typically love to tell me all about themselves,” he says curiously. “I’m not sure what the problem is here.”
I lean against the console separating us, holding his gaze. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that most of the women you’re referring to are about your age.”
He shrugs noncommittally.
“And that would be the problem,” I say.
“I don’t understand.”
I smile. “The women you typically engage with are at one stage of life, and I am at another. They’re in their twenties and have energy to toss around. On the other hand, I’m just looking forward to getting to my hotel and having dinner at this cute little restaurant called Ruma inside the hotel, if I can get in, before going to my room, lighting a candle, and taking a hot bath.” I shrug. “We aren’t the same.”
“But you still want to have dinner with me tonight, right?”
I laugh, sitting back again as the pilot’s voice crackles through the speakers. He welcomes us to Columbus and gives us the time and temperature. The flight attendant walks by, ensuring we’re buckled, and takes our drinks and napkins.
“You didn’t answer me,” he says.
My stomach swirls, and I make a concerted effort to breathe smoothly. His question—so direct and pointed—catches me off guard. Does he really want to see me tonight?
He watches me closely, making it clear that he’s dead serious. There’s no laugh, no smirk. He doesn’t flinch. He simply waits for my response.
I shift in my seat as my mind races. His offer is a nice boost to my confidence, which I appreciate. But as I notice every woman in our vicinity keeps stealing glances at him and soak in just how handsome he is, reality settles in.
Nothing good can come out of this.
At best, I see him for dinner. At worst, I give him my number, and he never calls. Either way, I don’t want to be in my hotel room tonight wondering if the phone will ring.