Lost in Tuscany by Sophie Sinclair EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Sophie Sinclair
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2.1 MB
- Price: Free
I peel my eyes open, hissing like a vampire against the sunlight streaming
through the open blinds. Dried drool cakes across my cheek as I ease
myself up on the couch, rubbing the crick in my neck. A chocolate-chip
cookie hiding in the folds of my sweatshirt drops to the carpet, and for a
split second, I contemplate picking it up and eating it. Nasty, Summer.
You’re better than a stale sweatshirt cookie on the floor.
Groaning, I pick up the empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, my
head throbbing to the beat of my pulse. It’s not a habit of mine to plow
through a bottle and a half of wine by myself on a Friday night, but guys
like Kevin will do that to you.
I close my eyes and flashbacks from last night unwillingly play like a
bad Netflix movie in my head. I met Kevin at a local sports bar called
Lucky’s after swiping right on the dating app, The One. There was nothing
lucky about that place. One look at the LED lights drooping from the
Styrofoam ceiling like a limp bra strap should have been my first clue. The
dried ketchup stains on the faux-wood tables and the busty server wearing a
tank top made for a nine-year-old were my second and third clues to how
this date was going to go.
Kevin, who is most definitely not the one, prattled on about how many
reps he did at the gym that morning. I didn’t even blink when he told me he
maxed out at 395 pounds on a bench press.
His nostrils flared in irritation. “That’s a big deal, Susan.”
My eye twitched. I couldn’t help but stare at the small glob of ranch
dressing clinging to his goatee. My finger automatically edged up to my
chin as I subliminally pointed it out.
“Wow, that’s—”
“Gary couldn’t believe it. He said it’s the highest he’s seen in months.”
I couldn’t even get a word in to pretend like I was interested in the
conversation. All I could see was the ranch dressing stuck in his beard. I
moved my limp lettuce doused heavily in garlic dressing around with my
fork, annoyed he kept calling me by the wrong name, even though I’d
corrected him twice.
After twenty more minutes of lackluster conversation about all his
achievements at work, and Gary’s reps at the gym, I had to pull the plug. I
took out my credit card to cover my side salad and glass of cheap wine.
Kevin got a plate of fire-breathing chicken wings, a cheeseburger with an
extra side of onion rings, and three beers. When the server came over with
the check, he had the nerve to ask her to split it equally between us and then
he winked at me and said, “You look like the Gloria Steinbeck type who
insists on paying her own way.”
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