Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
I had no earthly clue where to score truffle butter.
But as God was my witness, it was going to happen.
THIRTEEN
WHITE SHOE POLISH
“Honey.”
My hip was moving.
My eyes opened.
Barely.
“Hate to do this, your little snore is cute as fuck, but I don’t wanna sleep in my clothes for the third night in a row.”
I forgot I snored.
Braydon had thought it was cute too.
He said I sounded like a bunny.
I had these thoughts as I slithered out of bed and dragged my ass to my bag on Eric’s couch.
Once there, I pulled out the nightie I packed. Black, of course. Made of lace. Deep plunge that even made my small tits look good. Little bows at the spaghetti straps. A bigger one at the bottom of the plunge. So short, it barely covered my ass.
I stood there and chucked my clothes.
I pulled on the nightie.
Then I shuffled to his bed, pulled the covers back, slipped in and collapsed against his awesome pillows.
I was nearly asleep again when the bed moved with Eric getting in it.
He slid an arm around my waist and pulled me into his body.
Oo.
Warm.
I nuzzled deep.
I thought I heard him mutter, “And you think I’m a tease.”
But I couldn’t be sure.
Because I was back to sleep.
My hip was moving.
“Honey.”
I opened my eyes to dark.
Eric’s shadowed face was close.
“Whas goin’ on?” I mumbled.
“I have to go to work.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s time to go to work.”
I squinted at his clock.
It told me it was 6:45.
I squinted at him. “Your commute is fifteen minutes.”
“I know. That’s why I need to leave for work.”
I glanced around in confusion.
Oh fuck.
I looked back to him.
“Did I fall asleep in front of the TV again?”
“You’re right. You need to quit TV. It’s valium to you.”
I wasn’t sure it was the TV.
It was probably more my second helping of pastitsio (okay, full disclosure, it was my third helping).
We could just say I had to unbutton my pants again, which could be why Eric didn’t instigate anything. I was in no shape for physical exertion.
“You didn’t get to do all the things you wanted to do to me,” I noted.
“No kidding,” he replied, his voice vibrating with laughter. “And I was okay with that, until you stripped and showed me your sweet body only to put on a nightie that might get me shot since I can’t get it out of my head, doing this before you fell right back to sleep.”
I couldn’t help it.
I was still kinda asleep.
But I smirked.
“Don’t get shot today,” I said.
“Don’t put that nightie in the laundry.”
“Oh, there’s more where this comes from, big man.”
He grinned, and it was so wicked and wolfish, I had a mini-orgasm.
Then he swooped in for his now-patented lip brush before he asked, “What time do I need to set the alarm?”
I snuggled down into the pillow, deciding to sleep in. “Nine.”
He told his unit to wake me at nine with soft rock, came in to kiss my temple. That felt so soothing after my mini-orgasm, I closed my eyes, then Eric was gone, and I was back to sleep.
I sat in my car in the suicide lane waiting for an opening to take the turn and staring at The Surf Club, a thrill of excitement racing through me.
This was because the front window had been defaced with white shoe polish, and it said, Today’s Tex Special, Sugar Cookie Peppermint Mocha. A hook-type thing was drawn next to it that I suspected was supposed to be a candy cane, but it looked like a weapon.
This meant Tex was back!
Tex was part of the Denver crew, much older, kind of the beloved uncle of the Rock Chicks, who proved worthy of that title by being able to take a bullet for you (this he’d done) and getting clobbered over the head while guarding you (this he’d also done) and getting kidnapped for you (and ditto with him doing this).
He’d been around a few months ago when Raye first got with Cap, coming down to check Raye out. He’d also passed his time by making coffee in our coffee cubby (don’t ask, I still didn’t understand why he’d horned in to do that).
He’d proved to be incredibly popular, regardless of how unrelentingly rude he was to customers.
But his coffees were insane.
So there was that.
He was humongous, had a long-ass beard, wild-ass hair, and a wardrobe of nothing but jeans and flannel shirts.
And I fell in love with him at first sight.
I knew he’d come back for Thanksgiving, and I’d received news since from Raye and Luna that he and his wife had decided to retire in Phoenix.
I just didn’t know he was still in The Valley.
Or he’d be back at SC.
This meant, once I hit the parking lot, I hightailed it in, dumped my bag, and made a beeline for the coffee cubby (not only to say “hey” but to get a sugar cookie peppermint mocha—sometimes something was too much of a good thing, but I reckoned that creation wrought by the hands of Tex was gonna be stellar).