Hope Breaks: A New Adult Romantic Comedy by Alice Bello, Stephanie T. Lott Read Free Book Online Page A

moved to Arizona.  That’s the last I heard of her.”
    I surveyed our plates and our beer bottles.  Plates empty, bottles with only a few more swigs left in them.  Dinner was officially over…
    Unless we had dessert…
    My mind flashed to some rather steamy images of things that would hardly be classified as de ssert… but there was chocolate syrup and whip cream involved.
    I licked my lips as I imagined licking the chocolate and the cream from Jake’s flesh.
    News flash!  This is just dinner.  It’s not really even a first date… though it kind of felt like one.  Actually, in the scheme of things, it had ended up being one hell of a good day—even having my car breakdown on me had been a good thing.
    I looked at him as he chugged the last swallow of his beer. 
    Avery good thing.
    I looked over at the dessert menu placard by the salt and pepper shakers: apple pie a la mode, mud pie, death by chocolate cake, and cappuccino ice-cream.
    Ice-cream sounded good—really good.  But the two flavors they had left me cold.
    “Crickster’s is just a couple blocks away.  Can I temp you with a waffle cone?”
    His smile was slow and very sensual, his eyes unwavering as he took me in.
    “Sounds good.”
     
    ***
     
    Tammy Faye Bullock has owned Crickster’s since the early sixties.  She had big hair and wore too much make up, and she preferred skintight outfits better suited for a woman a third her age.  But she served the best damn ice-cream in town.
    She also kept young by working every day of the week, keeping her shrewd hazel eyes on her staff, the stock, and the register receipts. 
    “Well, as I live and breathe, Hope Jones!” Tammy Faye practically sang when I walked up to the outdoor order window.  “What got you out of your house?”
    Just then Jake sidled up behind me.
    Tammy Faye crooked a penciled in eyebrow and her candy apple red lips pursed into a naughty smile.
    “Oh, that’s what.”
    I rolled my eyes at Tammy Faye and told her what I wanted.  Chocolate chip cookie dough in a waffle cone.  What I always got when I came here…but then, I didn’t come here often anymore, did I?
    I actually couldn’t remember the last time I’d come.
    That was depressing.
    “I’ll take a—”
    “A root beer float,” Tammy Faye interrupted Jake.  “I know what you like, Jake-y.”
    Jake-y?
    Boy, the woman could fit a lot of innuendo into a few words and a wicked smile.
    Moments later we both had our orders—Jake handed me both my ice cream and his float—taking the chance to pay for dessert.
    Slick little shit...
    It wasn’t a busy time of day, so we had a variety of seating options: back to Jake’s truck; under the umbrellas that topped the line of picnic tables; or one of the stone benches that sat under the shady pine trees that had grown beside the ice-cream shop since it opened fifty years ago.
    We opted for a bench under a grand old tree. 
    Thank god the sun was starting to set, and the summer wind was just barely cooling off. 
    Unfortunately, it was still hot enough that I had to work fast on my cone, or I’d be wearing it instead of eating it. 
    I suddenly noticed that Jake was watching me with rapt interest.  I cringed at what I imagined I looked like, licking and biting into the ice cream and waffle cone like a starved animal.
    Or like a porn star licking her way to the gooey center of…
    Oh, for god’s sake!  What the hell was wrong with me?
    I looked longingly at my cone and decided I’d made enough of a spectacle of myself.  Even though I wanted to demolish the rest of it, I didn’t think my pride would survive letting Jake—Jake-y!—watch my gastronomical display.
    Besides the pornographic theme, girls weren’t supposed to eat their own body weight. And between the Hot Dog Shop, the ribs , and now the ice-cream, I was well on my way to looking like an utter hog.
    Which was ridiculous, really.  Jake had eaten as much if not more than I had, but I wasn’t thinking what