Page 82 of Crazy In Love
I was attracted to the man. I obviously had been for many years.
But I hadn’t known him to have a girlfriend since high school. Although we’d both gone away for college, so maybe he’d had a serious girlfriend then.
But the last few years in Rosewood River, I’d heard talk about him being single. About him breaking a few hearts.
Women loved him. The unattainable broody bachelor.
It was a known thing in our small town.
I’d always been intrigued.
He finished chewing. “Sex.”
Wow. He didn’t mince words, that’s for sure.
He didn’t sugarcoat it.
“So you just call a woman up and then meet for sex?” I asked, because I wanted to know, but he was watching me with that unreadable expression that made me laugh. “Asking for a friend.”
“Usually you just meet when you’re out.” He chuckled. “How about you. You probably do the whole courting thing, right? The formal plan, followed by flowers and bullshit compliments. A fancy dinner and then what, it’s months before you hop in the sack?”
“Wow. You make it sound so glamorous,” I said.
“Is that how it works? You just wait to get to the good part and then go your separate ways anyway?” he asked.
“That’s a shitty attitude, Chadwick.”
“Is it? I mean, you’re still single, so maybe you’re doing it wrong.”
“You’re single, too,” I grumped.
“Because I want to be.”
“How do you know I don’t want to be single?” I snipped before taking the last bite of my salad, which was spectacular. I made a conscious effort not to groan.
“Come on. You’ve got ‘white picket fence’ written all over you.” He said it so confidently that it was hard not to be offended.
Even if he was right.
I was a romantic. I wanted the happily ever after. I mean, I wasn’t willing to settle to get it, but I liked to believe there was someone for me out there.
“You know nothing about me.”
“That’s why I’m asking. I’m not judging you. If that’s what you want, I hope you get it,” he said.
“That’s maybe the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, aside from recommending me as a designer to the owner of this hotel,” I said with a laugh.
“You have a good eye.”
“Thank you. So, what is it that you want?” I asked as my salad plate was removed from the table, and the waiter used some sort of tool to scrape away the tiny crumbs around my place setting.
“I have everything I want.”
“That must be nice,” I admitted.
“It is. And I’m curious about something.” He took another sip from his glass as he appeared to consider his words.
“I’m an open book. Ask away.”
