Read Online Ditching The Dream (Dream Series) by Isabelle Peterson - Free Book Online Page B

the lobby a few times, but we hadn’t officially met. He was tall, very tall. This guy nearly towered over me. He had to be six-foot-four or more. Why are there so many tall guys here? Or have there always been this many? And where were they when I was dating in college? I couldn’t help but notice he was also rather young. Dressed in a plaid shirt, jeans, and boots, I wondered if he’d been at some country themed night at a local bar.
    He roused me out of my line dancing reverie by asking, “What floor?”
    “Um. I, ah…” Why was my brain stuttering? I didn’t know, but I was standing there like an idiot! I took a deep breath and gathered my mind. “I’m sorry. I’m on sex.” I gasped when I heard my slip. “I mean six . I’m on floor to six.” Oh good god, I inwardly groaned, now he thinks I’m some perverted nut job.
    “That’s mighty convenient,” he drawled, concealing a smirk. “I’m also on six,” he said with a wink pointing to the button panel with the six button already lit. But his accent was definitely from below the Mason-Dixon Line. Maybe his ‘get up’ wasn’t just for show?
    There was an awkward pause as the elevator lurched on its upward climb. He inhaled deeply. “Someone must be cooking steak. Do you smell that?”
    I, too, sniffed the air. All I smell is elevator…and man. Sweet, delicious man . As I turned to look at him, I caught a whiff of my shirt — mortified, I realized the steak smell was me.
    “Oh, I’m afraid that might be me,” I apologized.
    “Interesting perfume choice,” he shot back with a cocky little grin.
    “Oh, no – I work at a steak house just a couple of blocks from here. I come home every night smelling like this. Eau du steak, I guess.”
    “That’s something I could get used to.” His smile, which was at least a country mile wide, made me melt. I felt a blush infuse my cheeks.
    I took note of his shaggy-styled hair, his stubble, and his sparkling green eyes. He was the kind of guy you would see on screen. Perhaps he was an actor, or a model. I mean, we were in New York.
    “I’m Kevin,” he said with an outstretched hand.
    “Hi, Kevin. I’m Mrs. Fairch – I’m Elizabeth.” I smiled quietly and shook hands with him. I started to swoon a bit when our hands met. I must be tired , I convinced myself. And why did I choose to call myself Mrs. Fairchild, like Kevin was one of Bradley’s friends? My head was a frightful mess.
    “Nice to meet you, Lizzie.”
    The nickname stunned me a bit. I’d not been called Lizzie in almost thirty years. My sister Susan, Suzie , was the only one who still called me that.
    “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called you that. It’s awfully familiar… Please accept my apology. I work with middle schoolers and sometimes nicknames get the better of me.”
    The elevator stopped on the sixth floor, and the doors opened.
    “Ladies first,” he drawled. He placed his hand on my lower back to escort me out sending an electric tingle up my spine. His touch actually gave me goose bumps. What in the hell was that?
    I gasped, hastily stepping out of the elevator and out of his reach.
    “Oh, I beg your pardon. I don’t know what I was thinking. Please accept my apology.”
    “Apology accepted,” I whispered. My mouth was bone dry and my thoughts were all over the place. I could still feel his hand on my lower back, and now that he was standing closer to me, I could smell him better. A rustic man scent under his spicy cologne.
    We started down the hallway together, in an awkward silence, but my mind was shouting at me so loudly that I couldn’t properly hear, but it was along the lines of: “He’s gorgeous!” “He smells great!” “Don’t you want him to touch you again… in other places?”
    He stopped at his door, 6C, and I continue to my apartment, 6G. I heard him unlock and open his door, but it hadn’t closed. Curious, as I unlocked my door, I chanced a glance his way. He was watching me. He jumped