Page 27 of Mr. Edwards
There was an instant attraction the moment I saw Carlee at the club tonight; I was immediately drawn in by her beauty. Her face was perfectly made up, only enhancing all her delicate features. Her long blonde locks are now flowing free, and I’m surprised by the length of her hair. She’s virtually void of makeup, allowing her natural beauty to shine through, and I like what I see. I like it a lot. I get the impression she has no idea how appealing she truly is.
Crossing my arms in front of me, I lean forward in my seat, resting my elbows on the table so I can study her more closely. I’m currently counting the cute smattering of tiny freckles on the bridge of her nose. It looks like someone sprinkled her angelic face with a dusting of gold. I probably look like a creeper the way I’m staring, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off her. There’s a purity surrounding her… she’s so dang sweet, and looks dangerously wholesome without all that gunk on her face.
Thirteen.
I finish my calculations on her nose and move on to study the rest of her lovely face. Her long dark lashesframe her hazel eyes… eyes that sparkle under the lighting, and from here I can see the specks of gold and green that surround her irises. She’s incandescent, glowing from the inside out. Like sunshine, warming something inside me like no woman has before. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, but I can guarantee I’m not the first man to be enchanted by her beauty.
“So, any other boyfriends I need to worry about?” I ask because I’m curious to see if I have any competition.
“Hey, I’m the one who’s supposed to be doing the grilling here, mister,” she says, making me laugh. “And the answer is no. I don’t do boyfriends… I’m a no-strings kind of girl.”
Interesting.
“So, you’re saying you don’t do relationships… ever?”
“I’m not opposed to them; I’m just not interested in anything long-term.” For some reason, her answer rubs me the wrong way, but I try not to let it show. She may not be into commitments, but if this night goes the way I’m planning it to, she’ll need to reevaluate that. We’re only ten minutes into our date, but I already know I want to see her again. “I take it you’re not seeing anyone either?” she asks.
“No, but I’m working on it,” I reply as the corner of my mouth tugs up. “I recently met this incredibly beautiful, sassy woman.”
“Nice,” she says nonchalantly.
“The best part is, she claims to have no gag reflex.”
Carlee tries to fight her grin as her cheeks pinken. “Wow, she sounds like a keeper.”
“She’s every man’s fantasy. A walking, talking wet dream,” I say.
The server approaches our table, interrupting our conversation, just as things were starting to get interesting. “Are you ready to order?” he asks, drinking Carlee in.
It pisses me off. She’s oblivious to the attention she’s attracting. I get it, I do. She’s hard not to look at, but I still want to punch the guy.
I rein in my anger as I reach for the menu. I’ve been so preoccupied with the woman sitting opposite me, I haven’t even thought about food. The only thing I want to eat in this moment is her.
“I’ll get a large pepperoni pizza with thin crust, a serving of devil wings with ranch dressing on the side, and some cheesy garlic bread,” Carlee says without missing a beat.
That’s an awful lot of food for one person. “Are you ordering for both of us?” I ask, lowering the menu in my hands as I eye her curiously.
“I wasn’t planning on sharing,” she deadpans, “but I guess I will if I have to.”
I bark out a laugh. I love a woman that can eat, especially since she just ordered a shit load of carbs. But I’m curious how someone so petite can pack away that much food.
“Make it two servings of chicken wings, and we can share the pizza.”
“Fine,” Carlee mumbles, blowing out a puff of air. Christ, she’s amusing. There’s no way she can eat all that by herself.
“Anything to drink? The server’s damn eyeballs are still glued on her.
“A chocolate shake, thanks,” Carlee answers, looking up at him with a sweet smile. I grit my teeth when I see the dick’s face light up.
My attention moves back to her as I arch a brow.
“You?” the server grumbles, and again I want topunch him. “Just a coke.” I don’t bother to make eye contact or use my manners, because he’s being a rude fucker.
“So,” I say once we’re alone again. “What do you do for work?”
“I manage a bar, and do some volunteering in my spare time. You?”
“I’m a property developer.”
