Buffy Andrews - The Perfect Husband - A nail biting gripping psychological thriller

‘Yes. And I hate clicking on a twenty-second video and having to watch a forty-five second commercial first.’

Eric nodded. ‘I’m with you on the commercial pre-rolls. They drive me crazy, too.’

‘What bugs you? Besides visitors helping to clean up after dinner or touching your satchel,’ I joked.

He looked at me and smiled. ‘It’s going to take me a long time to live those things down, isn’t it?’

‘We’ll see,’ I teased. ‘It depends on how good you are the rest of the visit.’

‘Oh, I’ll be on my best behavior,’ he assured me. ‘You can count on that!’

‘Good. Now, tell me what bugs you.’

Eric looked at his sleeve. ‘I hate putting a coat on over a long-sleeve shirt and having the shirt’s sleeves roll up to my elbow.’

‘Good one.’

‘And I hate reading online dating profiles in which the woman states she likes to have fun – as opposed to what, hating fun and being miserable?’

I laughed. ‘Yeah, I’ve read some doozy online profiles, too.’

Eric reached over and touched my arm. ‘Thank God my days of reading online profiles are over. I found my match.’

My face warmed and tingles erupted inside. He’s so sweet. Kind and gentle. And thoughtful. Very thoughtful .

We left the campus and turned right, driving about three blocks before pulling in front of a two-story house with gray siding and black shutters. Eric turned off the car. ‘I’ll be right back. I just have to check on something.’

Not that I wanted to go with him, but Eric didn’t ask, which seemed strange given how polite he was.

Eric grabbed his satchel and hopped out of the car. I watched as he ran around to the back of the house. I passed the time looking at photos on my phone. I had a ton of images of Izzy. Then there were lots of photos of houses I’d sold and a fair number of Jackie and me, mostly selfies taken at Tony’s.

About twenty minutes later, Eric returned. He laid the satchel on the back seat. This time it didn’t slide off. ‘Sorry, that took a little longer than I anticipated.’

I wondered what he had to do but figured if he wanted me to know, he’d say.

We drove downtown and parked in a garage near the shopping district. The streets were lined with boutiques and quaint shops selling everything from specialty teas to hand-crafted soaps.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.