Rendezvous Read Online Free Page A
Author: Arie Lane
away from Tristan. I tell myself it will get easier every day, but that’s a fucking lie. It hasn’t gotten any easier at all, especially not when I know he’s out there, hopefully trying to find a way to live his life again...without me.
I was able to finish a book I’ve been meaning to wrap up since last year. I haven’t written as Lena in a long time, but now that I had to effectively become her, it made it easier. The new novel gave me a way to reconnect with some of my social networking friends that don’t know I’m Bentley. It a small solace to able to keep up with some of the things happening in the world I left behind.
I was asked by a blogger if I’d be interested in attending a book signing next month. I know I won’t be able to, but I still asked for the information anyway. It brightened my day a bit to learn that Tristan would be there with Ele, and that he had signed on with four new authors to be on their covers. I thought knowing that he was keeping busy would ease the pain in my chest, but the idea of him forgetting me isn’t something I am ready to face.
I have only been to this town a handful times. I bought my cabin here years ago and usually come up around the holidays when Dante goes back home to visit his family. I know a few of the locals pretty well and have grown fairly close to Tony over the years. He is like the big brother I always wanted, but never had. Whenever he notices me getting unwanted attention, he puffs his chest out and pushes the fuckers away.
He’s great like that.
I don’t see Tony as I step into the bistro he owns. Instead, there is a preppy looking guy behind the counter trying his luck with a couple of college girls. I take my normal seat and look over the menu, not that I need to. I almost always order the same thing. When I deviate, it is only because Tony insists. Pretty boy must have gotten rejected because the girls are walking out the door and he is sauntering over to my table.
“Hey there little lady,” He croons while sitting across from me. “I think my night just got lucky.”
I look up from the folder, check him over once, and return to my menu. “I don’t know what you think is lucky about it. You just got shot down by two girls who are probably even hornier than you are, and you’re attempting to run your cheesy game on me. If anything, I’d say your luck is shit.”
“Aww, come on now. Don’t be like that. No girl eats dinner alone unless she’s looking to hook up,” he replies, before taking inventory of our surroundings. “I don’t see anyone coming to join you, therefore you’re either hard up or you’re playing hard to get. So which one is it sweetheart? Because I can scratch any itch you might have.”
I laugh at the idiocy of his statement. “I’m not hard up and as far as being hard to get, I’m damn near impossible. While we’re on that subject though…” I say leaning across the table. “I can probably get more satisfaction out of my pinky here than I could from the few measly inches your packing. I can tell from here you’re hard, yet you’re barely even making a dent in those 1950s style pleated pants you’re wearing. Where the fuck do you shop? You look like you borrowed your wardrobe from Mr. Rogers.”
“Damn. You know, I like my women feisty. I bet you’re a kinky little vixen in the sack. You can sit there and say 'no' to me all you want, but I can have your body screaming 'yes' in minutes.”
“The closest thing you’ve probably ever come to kinky is talking dirty to your hand as you’re using it to fuck yourself. Now if you don’t mind, why don’t you go waddle back behind that counter and daydream yourself up some girl who’d give you the time of day. Because the only way some pansy ass pipsqueak like you is getting a girl to scream is if you’re paying her to do it.”
I want to say so much more, but Tony chose this as a good moment to grace us with his presence. The dipshit sitting across
I was able to finish a book I’ve been meaning to wrap up since last year. I haven’t written as Lena in a long time, but now that I had to effectively become her, it made it easier. The new novel gave me a way to reconnect with some of my social networking friends that don’t know I’m Bentley. It a small solace to able to keep up with some of the things happening in the world I left behind.
I was asked by a blogger if I’d be interested in attending a book signing next month. I know I won’t be able to, but I still asked for the information anyway. It brightened my day a bit to learn that Tristan would be there with Ele, and that he had signed on with four new authors to be on their covers. I thought knowing that he was keeping busy would ease the pain in my chest, but the idea of him forgetting me isn’t something I am ready to face.
I have only been to this town a handful times. I bought my cabin here years ago and usually come up around the holidays when Dante goes back home to visit his family. I know a few of the locals pretty well and have grown fairly close to Tony over the years. He is like the big brother I always wanted, but never had. Whenever he notices me getting unwanted attention, he puffs his chest out and pushes the fuckers away.
He’s great like that.
I don’t see Tony as I step into the bistro he owns. Instead, there is a preppy looking guy behind the counter trying his luck with a couple of college girls. I take my normal seat and look over the menu, not that I need to. I almost always order the same thing. When I deviate, it is only because Tony insists. Pretty boy must have gotten rejected because the girls are walking out the door and he is sauntering over to my table.
“Hey there little lady,” He croons while sitting across from me. “I think my night just got lucky.”
I look up from the folder, check him over once, and return to my menu. “I don’t know what you think is lucky about it. You just got shot down by two girls who are probably even hornier than you are, and you’re attempting to run your cheesy game on me. If anything, I’d say your luck is shit.”
“Aww, come on now. Don’t be like that. No girl eats dinner alone unless she’s looking to hook up,” he replies, before taking inventory of our surroundings. “I don’t see anyone coming to join you, therefore you’re either hard up or you’re playing hard to get. So which one is it sweetheart? Because I can scratch any itch you might have.”
I laugh at the idiocy of his statement. “I’m not hard up and as far as being hard to get, I’m damn near impossible. While we’re on that subject though…” I say leaning across the table. “I can probably get more satisfaction out of my pinky here than I could from the few measly inches your packing. I can tell from here you’re hard, yet you’re barely even making a dent in those 1950s style pleated pants you’re wearing. Where the fuck do you shop? You look like you borrowed your wardrobe from Mr. Rogers.”
“Damn. You know, I like my women feisty. I bet you’re a kinky little vixen in the sack. You can sit there and say 'no' to me all you want, but I can have your body screaming 'yes' in minutes.”
“The closest thing you’ve probably ever come to kinky is talking dirty to your hand as you’re using it to fuck yourself. Now if you don’t mind, why don’t you go waddle back behind that counter and daydream yourself up some girl who’d give you the time of day. Because the only way some pansy ass pipsqueak like you is getting a girl to scream is if you’re paying her to do it.”
I want to say so much more, but Tony chose this as a good moment to grace us with his presence. The dipshit sitting across