Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 103918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
"What's wrong?" Gideon asked. "Do you want some soy sauce or something?"
I shook my head. Insecurity was an ugly thing and I was its bitch. "I…" I stuttered. "Do you think maybe I could save this for later when I get home?"
The silence that followed was deafening.
It was all I could do not to squirm in my seat. I could feel Gideon's eyes on me. "It's just… I'm not as hungry as I thought I was. I mean, the food smells great, but I'm still feeling kind of full—"
My stomach chose that exact moment to growl again. I muttered a curse under my breath but cut it off abruptly when Gideon's hand closed over mine on the table. He really needed to stop doing that because my brain had a tendency to turn into mush whenever he touched me. It was already bad enough that I was so emotionally entangled with the man—I absolutely could not let my physical attraction to him continue to grow. It was one thing to be out and proud in Los Angeles, but I was in the north woods of Maine with a man who could very well be a homophobe for all I knew.
"You know that thing where you said how scary it was to not know what someone was thinking, to not be able to read them?" Gideon asked.
Despite knowing where he was going with this, I nodded anyway.
"I don't always get it right, Lex," Gideon said. "But at least give me the chance."
I sighed because he sounded genuinely confused. "When I eat, it's… it's not pretty." When Gideon didn't respond, I got antsy and added, "I stopped eating in front of others after I had lunch a while back with a potential investor at this really exclusive restaurant. I kept trying to stab the food with my fork, but every time I put it in my mouth the damn thing was empty. I thought I was just missing it on the plate, but it turns out that most of what I'd been getting off the plate was ending up in my lap and I hadn't known it. When I stood up to go to the bathroom, I moved my napkin off my lap and heard this plop. I had no clue what was going on until the waiter explained that there were vegetables from my salad all over the floor." My cheeks felt hot as I waited for Gideon to say something. When he didn't, that need to get away overtook me. Gideon must've sensed I was about to stand, because his fingers tightened on mine.
"Sorry," he said gruffly. "I had my head in your lap."
I was about to ask him what he was talking about when he suddenly blurted, "My mind! I had my mind in your lap… On your lap! My mind was on your lap."
The man sounded so flustered that I didn't know what to make of it. I also had no clue what he was talking about. Why in the world would his mind be on my lap?
I found myself smiling because I didn't really care what he was trying to say. I'd already figured out he was a big, tough, domineering type of man, so to listen to him struggle to get his thoughts across was just downright fun. I liked knowing that I wasn't the only one dealing with embarrassing verbal vomit.
"Eat," Gideon growled, though there was no meanness behind his words. He was clearly dismissing the issue, but not in a way that seemed like he thought I was being a baby about the whole thing. I took his response as more of his passing it off as a non-issue.
Since the man had pretty much seen me at my lowest, I figured if he hadn't turned tail and run already, he wasn't going to. At least not for me spilling some food in my lap or eating off an empty fork. The nerves were still there as I began to eat, but something about the sound of Gideon enjoying his own meal made it a little easier for me to focus less on the act of eating and more on the taste of the food.
As my vision had started to go, I'd been forced to hire a chef to cook for me. While I liked the food he prepared, it always had a certain level of sterility to it… like it was just too fancy. It had been like eating in a restaurant every night of the week. But sitting there at that small table with my gruff neighbor had this weird sense of intimacy to it. The food was rustic and simplistic, but it was also delicious.
By the time I cleaned my plate, I had no clue if I was covered in sauce or had vegetables stuck to me anywhere, but I didn't care. I was pleasantly full and deliciously sated. I leaned back in my chair and listened to the sounds of Gideon eating what I assumed was his second serving.