Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“You have a boyfriend?” he asked.
She peered up at him. “Nope. Do you?”
“No. I don’t. But you just said you did.”
“I used to. But he was a jerky jerk. I don’t like him now.”
“You broke up with him?” he asked.
“I had to. He found another girlfriend.”
“What an asshole.”
“You’ve met him?” she asked. How had he met Axel?
“No. You just told me about him.”
“Oh, yeah. He’s a jerky jerk.” She giggled.
“Right, we need to get you into a taxi. I’ll text you tomorrow about the wedding.”
“I don’t wanna go. Don’t make me. Please.”
“In the taxi?” he asked.
“No, to the wedding. It will be awful. Don’t tell anyone this, but my sister is kind of a bitch.”
“I had an inkling,” he replied.
“You did?” She leaned back to look up at him and the world tilted.
“Whoa, pretty girl, you’ll fall over if you do that.”
“Won’t be the first time. Why would you want to go with me?”
“You need the support, right?” he asked.
“Yeah, but you don’t need to help me.”
“I think we’re friends by now, don’t you? And friends help their friends.”
Friends. Right. She was always the friend. Never the sexy lover. But he was offering to do something nice, and she’d prefer he was upfront than pretend to feel something he didn’t.
“Right. We’re just friends. Got it. I need to go home. I’ve got bare feet.”
“I know, pretty girl. Your taxi has probably arrived. Let’s get you in it. Go home. Drink water. Sleep. Understand?”
“You this bossy with all your friends?”
“Nah, you’re just special.”
Oh. She liked that.
Dude was smooth.
4
Lara groaned as pieces of glass were slammed into her eyes.
Otherwise known as rays of sunshine.
She’d had way too many Tingles to drink last night. Rolling onto her back, she put her hand over her tummy as the room spun sickeningly. She’d had the oddest dream about meeting a guy called Butch, who’d picked her up in his arms and escorted her out of the bar and into a taxi. Who’d told he would be her date to the wedding and then taken her phone number.
Yeah, right . . .
There was no way any of that happened last night. What was more likely is that she’d made a dick of herself asking strange men to be her date, then stumbled into a taxi.
Damn it, she couldn’t really afford those Tingles or the taxi last night.
She probably should have sold those shoes rather than give them away. But it had made the waitress so happy. And she loved making people smile.
Except for Chandler. Because his smile was evil. And when he was smiling it usually meant a baby had died.
Okay, he wasn’t quite that evil. But close.
And her sister was just as bad.
Her phone beeped, making her groan and pull the pillow over her head. Why had she come here? It was even worse than she’d expected. Her mom had made her meet Emily and her friends at a charming hotel downtown. The hotel she thought her mom would have booked for her to stay in, rather than this run-down motel.
And why did she let her mom and sister dress her last night? They’d had her outfit ready for her before they’d all gone for cocktails.
She’d looked like a giant poo on wonky high heels. There was no other way to describe it.
Her phone beeped again. For God’s sake. Just because they were paying for her to be here didn’t mean they owned her. They couldn’t just text her at some god-awful hour of the morning at . . . she squinted trying to read the clock on the wall . . . nine-thirty a.m.
Okay, so that wasn’t that early. But still . . . it was the principal of the thing.
Kind of.
Groaning again, because her stomach was rolling with nausea, she grabbed her phone and checked the message.
Huh. Since when was her mom written in her phone as sexy man from the bar?
She sat up, ignoring the pounding in her head and the way her tummy wanted to revolt.
This text wasn’t from her mom. It was from him.
Mr. Sexy Cowboy with the tattoos, beard, and really strong back.
It wasn’t a dream?
He’d been real?
Butch was real. It wasn’t a dream. She had met him. And he was coming to the wedding with her.
Holy. Shit.
He’d really picked her up? And . . . had he carried her out to the taxi?
It was so Prince Charming of him. Except, she didn’t think that Prince Charming would ever threaten to slap Cinderella’s ass.
Then again . . . who knew what kinky shit they got up to in the bedroom.
He’d left her a message!
She fumbled with her phone, opening up the entire message so she could read it.
Sexy man from the bar:
How are you feeling this morning?
Okay, she needed to shorten that. Hmm. She’d put him in as PC, short for Prince Charming.