Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Koen draws in a long breath, gaze surveying the store. Now that I’m not afraid of him, I sense his gentleness and patience in how he seems to give my words thought before responding. Herb does that, too, but I’ve always assumed it’s his age, a man in no hurry to do or say anything.
“We could kiss.” When his eyes shift, gaze landing squarely on my face, he grins, quickly rubbing the pads of his fingers over his lips to hide it.
I take a second to respond, a slight delay to ensure I heard him correctly. “Strangers kissing?”
He offers a one-shoulder shrug. “I would never suggest it if this were a first date.”
“You think chance encounters involve kissing?” My cheeks ignite.
“There’s a chance. Wouldn’t you say?” Shy, my ass. He’s bleeding with confidence.
My nose wrinkles. “I don’t think I kiss strangers. It’s too intimate.”
Koen eyes me like he’s giving it some thought, perhaps formulating a counterclaim. Then he leans toward a display on the counter and nabs a deck of Drummond’s playing cards next to a Drummond’s fountain drink jigsaw puzzle. He retrieves a five-dollar bill from his pocket. “For the cards.” He pulls the tab, opening the new box of cards and shuffling the deck. “Golf?”
By this point, my grin is not only unavoidable, it’s so obnoxious my face hurts.
“Golf.”
He deals the cards, and we each flip two over. I quickly win the first game, but he wins the following three.
“Do you live nearby?” he asks, shuffling the cards.
My gaze shifts from his capable hands (he’s obviously shuffled many cards) to his pleasant grin. “Pretty darn close.”
“In this neighborhood?” He deals six cards each.
“Closer.” I smirk, lining up my cards into rows of three.
Koen lifts an eyebrow. “Do you live in the store?”
“Not quite.” I jerk my head toward the back door while sliding off the stool.
He follows me.
“Voila,” I say, opening the door to the chilly night under a clear sky.
“That’s your Airstream?”
“Yes. Sort of.” I don’t elaborate on the semantics.
“And we’re playing cards in the store?”
I laugh. “Less than an hour ago, I thought you were going to rob me.”
Koen inspects me with a curious gaze for a few seconds. “Listen, I should go, but I’ve enjoyed our chance encounter.” He saunters back toward the counter and slips on his jacket.
I gather the cards, take the glasses to the back room, and load them into the dishwasher. When I return, Koen’s waiting by the door with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and Scrot at his side.
“I’d still like to take you to dinner next weekend if you’re interested.”
I slide my phone from my pocket. It’s been twelve years since I’ve felt this kind of instant chemistry. Twelve years of dormant butterflies in my tummy waiting to be resurrected. “I’d like that too.”
We exchange numbers, and I unlock the door.
He bites his lips together as if he’s fighting a grin.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I’m just thinking.”
“Do I want to know what you’re thinking?”
“I’m thinking, ‘Well done, Grandpa. Well done.’”
I blush. Oh yeah, those butterflies are very much alive. “Thanks for not robbing me tonight.”
Koen adjusts his hat and zips his hoodie to the top before shooting me a mischievous grin. “You’re welcome.”
He’s sexy and playful. I don’t want him to leave, but he’s opening the door. I try to be cool. We just met. I should say goodnight.
“Goodnight,” he says for the both of us since I’m too busy thinking of doing something impulsive, even for me.
Five seconds later, I step outside. “Hey?”
He turns, already halfway to his truck.
“I’ve thought about it and … maybe we could kiss.” I can barely breathe. Bravery is exhausting.
“You’re right, it’s too soon. But if it makes you feel better, I’ve already kissed you a dozen different ways in my mind.”
Dead.
A woman with more dignity would turn around, go inside, and wait for the next date. Regroup and play hard to get.
I’m not that woman.
Instead, I gawk at his sexy ass in those jeans. I smile when he helps Scrot into the truck. And I watch him pull out of the parking lot.
Then, I play it cool.
Kidding.
I lock the front door and squeal while jumping up and down.
Then, I play it cool.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A GOOD IDEA AND A BAD IDEA IS ABOUT TEN SECONDS.
Price
The day I met Scottie, I spent my whole week’s paycheck on oils, healing stones, and incense because I felt bad for dragging my wet self into the store, dripping water everywhere. She asked me if I was into natural healing.
I nodded, gazing at the counter while handing her nearly all the cash in my wallet.
“Liar,” she said with a laugh.
Narrowing my eyes, I glanced up. She didn’t know me. I couldn’t imagine why she was so quick to judge. Did I look like an unnatural person?