Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
I swallowed, blinking back tears as I motioned for him to follow me into the kitchen. I popped the cap off a bottle and handed it over with a smile.
“Did you really bring a salad?”
He held up a grocery bag and laughed. “Yeah. I was joking earlier, but I had an hour to kill after work and I figured I might have been right about the lack of vegetables in your diet. What can I say? I worry. It’s nothing exciting. Just a basic romaine-spinach combo with tomatoes, brown rice, corn, and some shredded chicken.”
I took the bag and pulled out a large plastic container and smaller clear one with a vinaigrette dressing. “You made this?”
“Yeah,” he replied, folding the bag neatly. “Are you hungry?”
“Not right this second, but—”
“That’s okay. We can have it later, or you can eat it tomorrow.” Sky sipped his beer, then cast his gaze around my apartment. “Nice place. It’s so…neat. Is that you or your roommate?”
I leaned against the island and let out a half laugh. “Definitely not Elliot. He’s a slob.”
“So, you’re a clean freak, eh?”
“Well…yeah, I s’pose I am.”
Sky raised his eyebrows as he perched on a barstool. “I wouldn’t have guessed that. I always thought hockey players were a little rough around the edges. You are…but you aren’t.”
“How so?” I kicked his foot off the bottom rung of the barstool and sat down, close enough that our knees touched.
“You seem real. Real people aren’t stereotypes. You’re not a beer-guzzling jock who sits around scratching his nuts and watching ESPN after practice. It looks like you came home and…cleaned.”
I shrugged. “After I guzzled beer and scratched my nuts.”
Sky chuckled. “Naturally.”
The air buzzed with a sexual current I wasn’t quite ready to tackle. I needed a minute to find my balance, so I didn’t spontaneously combust. Be cool, be calm, keep it real…without being gross. I repeated the chant in my head a couple of times before taking a drink and setting my bottle down, accidentally sliding the note Elliot left me earlier toward Sky. Who, of course, picked it up.
“No, that’s—don’t read that,” I said in a panicky tone.
“You passed it to me.”
“I did not pass it to you. You still can’t keep your eyes on your own paper, can you?” I teased as I reread the note. It was rated G. Thank God.
Sky snorted. “Ha. Ha. What did he mean by ‘be safe’? Does he think you’re on a Tindr date?”
I gave him a deadpan look before pulling out the condom from my pocket. “No, but he left this.”
“Ahh. I see.” He chuckled lightly when I tossed it at him.
“Really? ’Cause I don’t.” I stood abruptly, pacing to the other side of the island. He smelled too good and was far too handsome. I couldn’t think straight with him so close. Pun intended. “I don’t even know what to do with that.”
“You’ve never put a condom on your dick?” Sky asked, arching a brow.
I rolled my eyes. “Very funny.”
“It wasn’t really a joke. How much experience have you had?”
“Plenty. But never with a guy. We’ve been over this, remember?”
“Hey, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ask, but this isn’t exactly a normal situation. We don’t know much about each other. If it was just a matter of blowing you, then sliding a condom on before riding your dick, I wouldn’t have showed up with a fucking salad.”
“So, you don’t bring salads to booty calls?”
He barked a quick laugh. “Never. I’m not trying to date you. I just don’t know how to do this either. We have some tricky crossover now. My new boss, aka your stepdad, reminded me that he wants to have me over for dinner soon. I’m guessing that means I’ll run into some embarrassing high school photos of you. It could be uncomfortable if we’re not honest about what we’re doing here. Or what you want to do here.”
“You’re right. So, what should we do? Eat the fuckin’ salad or something?”
Sky grinned. “No. Put the salad in the fridge, then sit down and relax.”
“Fine.” I obeyed. I grabbed two water bottles before skirting the island and flopping gracelessly onto the stool next to him. I slid a bottle toward him in a strange sort of peace offering or a silent request to start over. Then I twisted the top on mine and took a long drink, aware of Sky’s amused gaze.
“Thank you,” he said, uncapping his water bottle.
I tilted my head in acknowledgment and noted a few details, like his sculpted cheekbones and the way his shirt hugged his biceps. I wished he was wearing less, but it was probably better that he wasn’t. He was right. I had no clue what to do, and the work thing made it complicated. I should back off now. We could eat some salad, share office gossip, and forget about this. But…