Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
God didn’t need a specific day to show anyone he cared about them. If he wanted to do something nice, he’d do it when he felt like it. Why did he have to indulge in a fake holiday that existed purely to sell shit?
And now…now he had to appease a chick he hardly knew who was expecting him to bend over backward today like every other gullible idiot. Sherry wasn’t even his full-time headache yet. She was a one-night stand turned into a two-week fling. And her constant text and voicemails while he was at work made his blood simmer.
He didn’t know how to tell her to back the fuck off without sounding like an asshole. He couldn’t care less if he offended or hurt the feelings of the pricks at work, but he hated to admit he had a soft spot for hazel eyes, pouty lips, and a big ass. But if he got one more message asking what they were “doing for the holiday,” he was going to snap.
Sherry wasn’t bad, well, not really. She was sexy, could make a good steak-and-potatoes dinner, was content to play Candy Crush on her phone when he was watching a game, gave good back massages, and was amazing at reverse cowgirl. But she could also be needy as fuck.
She called all the time “just to hear his voice,” and after only a couple of weeks, she was starting to expect things. God wasn’t in the correct mind frame or at a point in his life to meet anyone’s expectations—except maybe Day’s—right now.
His job was demanding, so for him to be tied down to something as basic as a two-week romance was crazy.
God’s phone buzzed in his pocket again. He didn’t have to check to know it was another message from Sherry.
He clenched his jaw, letting out a full chest grumble that made Day stop in his tracks.
“All right, Mufasa, that’s it.”
Before he could object, Day notified dispatch they were going on break and yanked God into a small coffee shop. Without having to tell him what he’d have, Day went to the counter and ordered an espresso roast with a plain bagel for God and an extra-sweet, love-bean latte and a ham-and-cheese croissant for himself.
How the man stayed as fit as he was, God would never understand.
“All right, let it out,” Day said after God had finished his bagel and Day had eaten half of his croissant. “You’ve scowled at every couple who’s walked by. Are you dreading something you got going on after your shift?”
God shot him an annoyed glare, but Day was grinning, those light eyes sparkling with humor.
“It’s just all this fake shit,” he growled. “Like what the fuck?”
Day raised a brow. “Ahh, so that’s it. You’re some sort of Cupid crusher, huh?”
“It’s stupid,” he muttered.
Day hummed, taking a long sip of his drink.
“Whatever.” God pfft’d. “You’ve probably got plans for it too.”
Day responded with a soft shrug, a sly smirk on his smooth lips.
“Maybe. Nothing over-the-top. Dinner, a couple of drinks. No biggie.”
God’s stomach twisted.
Of course Day had someone to spend tonight with. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him, but it kind of did. They didn’t discuss their social lives much. The two of them were together ten to twelve hours out of the day, and God didn’t have the time or energy for committed relationships. He’d assumed Day didn’t either.
All he knew was Day had a liking for men…tall, muscular, alpha men.
God cringed—for not the typical reasons—at the mental image of Day dressed in nice, tight jeans and a button-up shirt. Laughing and gazing up at someone else, another man making him smile. Doing the silly couple stuff that God hated.
They downed the last of their coffee and returned to the streets to finish their shift.
God didn’t grunt or curse anymore, and Day stayed quiet as if letting God stew inside his silence. It was dark and cold by the time they changed out of their uniforms, showered, and got dressed to leave.
When he crossed the parking lot, he saw Day leaning against his truck.
“Wassup?” God mumbled, not making eye contact as he tossed his duffel in the back seat.
“You won’t believe it, but my date canceled,” Day gritted. “I didn’t like the guy anyway. He had thin eyebrows and a widow’s peak. He’ll probably be bald in five years.”
God felt one side of his mouth tilt up.
Day winked, nodding toward the small dive bar across the street. “You in? Beer, wings, basketball…silence.”
“Yeah,” God said roughly.
He knew Day hadn’t been stood up. Fucking impossible. Unless the guy was a complete dumbass.
Day went around the other side and hopped in, slamming the door hard.
“Let’s do it, then, Cupid Crusher.”
Somehow, God felt ten times better as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted Sherry that he was working late. Tomorrow, he’d break things off with her.