Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“The last time I had wine on a plane, I threw up in the barf bag,” I tell them. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just said that.”
Because I’m nervous as hell. And on a private plane!
Did I mention it’s a private plane?!
Posey is going to positively die.
Die!
“Um, I’ll just have a water, thank you—with lemon if you have one sitting around back there.”
“Of course.” Beth smiles, setting a napkin on the table in front of me. “And for you, Mr. Cohen?”
“I’ll have the same.”
He smiles politely back at her, and off she goes.
I lean forward. “What other food is she going to bring?”
He shrugs. “Usually more of the same. Fruit, vegetables. Steak and shrimp is what I had last time, but like she said—this is a short flight.”
“Why are you being so mysterious?”
“You said you liked surprises.”
I sit back. “Hmm. I did say that, but now I have ants in my pants.”
“I’ll give you a hint. It’s less than two hours.”
“Oh gee, thanks.” Two hours in any which direction gives me no clue at all. “Vegas?”
“That’s two and a half hours.”
“Orlando?”
He pulls a face.
“Okay, so not Orlando.” I laugh. “Nashville?”
“Good guess. But no.”
I slump back, remembering that I haven’t buckled myself in, stowing my bag at my feet—a perk of not being on a commercial airline is not bonking my head on the seat in front of me while I riffle around for ChapStick!
Ugh, this is heaven. Heaven, I tell you!
Eli smiles at me.
I smile back.
He raises the water glass when it’s set down in front of him, and I raise mine.
“A toast to firsts.”
“First fourth dates?”
He nods. “First date with…one of your best friends.”
What’s this now?
I lower the glass and eyeball him. “I’m one of your best friends?”
This is news to me. If I thought I had butterflies in my stomach before, my heart is pounding wildly, an entirely new feeling.
While we’re taxiing on the runway and then finally taking off, I can’t help but let my eye roam straight back to Eli‘s chest. I’ve never noticed it before because he’s always been dressed up—you can’t tell much about a man’s physique while he’s wearing a sports coat or a tuxedo—and now, the side of his pecs in that graphic tee shirt are giving me a cheap thrill. I shift my gears so that I am staring out the window and not at his hard nipples, which are visible through the thin fabric of his cheap tee.
Too late, he catches me.
“Were you checking me out?”
I shrug. No sense in denying it. “Yes. I want to know what I’m working with if we’re going to try dating and not just be friends.” I use air quotation marks around the word dating and friends just to be a wiseass. And because I’m slightly uncomfortable with him looking at me this way; looking at me the same way I’m looking at him.
With renewed interest.
“When you asked me on this date, were you being serious, or were you only asking because you didn’t think I would say yes?”
He knows it’s a very valid question.
“On one hand,” he begins. “I surely don’t want to lose that bet with Jack and Penelope because of what it’s going to cost me. On the other hand, I realized—probably on our second date—that intentionally trying to sabotage my own personal life to win a bet wasn’t doing me any favors, either.” He pauses, looking out the window for a few heartbeats before looking back at me. “And I am not a foolish man. I know a good thing when I see it, and I’m not about to pass up an opportunity.”
Is he talking about me?
Am I the good thing he knew when he saw it?
I know I’m a good catch; a great one, actually—we’ve been over this one million times. But for this man to sit across from me and say the words out loud has me speechless. No one has ever validated my own self-worth. I’m always the one validating my own badassery.
I have no idea how to reply to him saying he wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity, but I am flattered, hell, if I’m not.
Blushing, I smile at Beth when she brings our entrée, leaning in to tell me that we’re now forty-five minutes from our destination, and I realize Eli and I have been aimlessly chattering about nothing for almost an hour.
I feel shy but like my usual self, a decent combination if I don’t say so myself. It’s good to be out of sorts. It lets me know I’m not unaffected by him or indifferent the way I am with most men who try to grab my attention.
Then again, most of them don’t take me anywhere in private jets or fancy cars.
Enjoy it, I tell myself. This could be your only chance to do something like this. Be spontaneous and carefree.