Killing Me Softly Read Online Free PDF

let my spirits get too down as I trudge down the hall. I really had it in my head that Rob would be here, and he would have the room all lit in candlelight with rose petals strewn about and a bucket of champagne waiting.
    Not that he's ever done anything that romantic, but that's the sort thing you do on Valentine's Day when you're going to propose, right? Turning the key, I push open the door and find the room empty. Just as I knew it would be. Woven scatter rugs dot the worn wood floors. There's a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room that has a Laura Ashley-type flowered comforter on it. The bed ruffles cascade down in coordinating stripes and plaids that are also featured on the multitudes of pillows on the bed. It is a nice room. For a thirteen year-old girl. There is nothing about this quaint room that even hints at romance or seduction. Certainly nothing that would be conducive to anything spicy in the bedroom.
    Not that Rob has ever been spicy in the bedroom. Or anywhere else. I mean, when he was super frisky, that one time, the living room rug was suitably creative for him. We don't need fancy props or lingerie or rose petals to be romantic. We love each other, and that's enough. Right?

CHAPTER SIX
     
    Two hours later, Rob finally arrives. I've had a glass (or three) of wine while waiting for him. Dorothy, the innkeeper, kept me company. I've found out that she and her husband, who is now deceased, God-rest-his-soul, opened the B&B when he was forced to take an early retirement. They bought the old convent and set about restoring it while preserving cool features, like all the stone work. I'm fascinated by the architecture of the place. Even the restoration process sounds like fun. According to Dorothy, at least two to three engagements happen here every year.
    I don't know if I'm relieved to see Rob or pissed at him for being so late and not calling. What if he was picking up the ring and there was a snafu there or something? I can't be too upset with him. After all, he is going to a lot of trouble for me.
    But I wish he wouldn't.
    That thought runs through my mind. And it shocks me. Why would I think that? Is it just the wine talking? Rob, except for his name, is perfect for me. I'm just irritable because I'm hungry. And tired. Once I get some food in me, I'll feel worlds better and be in the mood for some romance.
    Dinner is delicious. Pan-seared flank-steak with smashed potatoes and homemade bread that is to die for. Steamed veggies and salad. I go lightly on those for fear of tummy troubles later on. Who wants that? We're the last ones eating tonight. All the other diners have come and gone, but we got off to a late start because Rob got there so late. Dorothy clears our plates and brings us a dessert of chocolate mousse, served in a martini glass with a chocolate wafer garnish. I dive into mine, wishing I could mainline it. As I'm practically licking out my glass, I look up and see Rob's untouched.
    "Aren't you going to eat that? It's so good. I could eat this everyday for the rest of my life."
    "No you couldn't."
    "Sure I could."
    "You'd be the size of a house."
    "Quite possibly, but you'd love me anyway."
    He's silent. I try to pretend I don't notice but I do. He's probably just nervous. Finally he says, "You wanna go sit by the fire?"
    Okay, here it comes. This is it. I wish I could go brush my teeth and comb my hair, just so everything is perfect. "Sure," I reply, standing up and following him down the hall to the library. I bring my wine with me. I feel like I need something to do with my hands. Man, I'm getting really nervous too. Unbelievably, we're the only people in the room. I don't know where everyone else is. Perhaps they've all retired upstairs already. I look at my watch. It's after nine. We're probably the youngest couple here, so it makes sense that we're the only ones still up. Fine by me. It will give us more privacy. I wonder if Rob would be up for getting a little frisky on the couch in