Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I looked up at the group, some of them already seeming to grow impatient with the silence. “Sorry, the Bluetooth is having trouble connecting,” I called out as I clicked into the “recently deleted” folder. This was likely where I’d find an even larger golden nugget, but I was also running out of time. The second I pressed Play on the music would be the second I lost my reason for sitting there and snooping through Archie’s laptop.
My eyes jumped from subject line to subject line. All of it appeared to be spam, a string of incoherent words advertising local singles and miracle sex pills. I was about to close out of it and go back to the group when something jumped out at me. It was an email address, one I recognized:
WhosEatingTheRich.com.
That was from the blogger who had written the story on Amelia’s death. The one who knew about the secret nanny camera, who must have had an inside connection to the family.
There it was. An email coming from Archie’s business account, detailing all the facts of the case that had been missing from public record. He’d been the leak. But why? Did he know something that he didn’t even tell the blogger? Was he laying the groundwork for some kind of plan I couldn’t quite figure out? Did he just want to get the word out that something was fishy with his mother’s death?
So many questions and absolutely zero time to figure them out. Archie was walking in my direction, the rest of the group already standing on either side of the field with their respective teams. I clicked out of the web browser, but not before spotting an email welcoming Archie to an online gambling website, and opened Spotify just as Archie came to sit next to me.
I clicked Play, and the music started, loud and heavy with bass. “Look at that,” I said, standing up. “You’re a good-luck charm.”
“Guess so,” he said, glancing at the laptop before looking back up at me. I motioned toward the team.
“Ready to play?” I asked.
“Yeah, I just remembered I have to send an email real quick. You guys can start without me.”
“Sounds good,” I said, turning to join my team. Playing flag football was the last thing on my mind.
27
COLTON COOPER
There were plenty of reasons why I found Eric sexy. His wit and charm were up there, along with his permanent five-o’clock shadow and his dark hair that always felt like silk in my hands. I also loved how he could make me laugh with the dumbest joke, and some of them were really dumb, but he would tell them with full conviction and have me rolling on the floor because of it.
But there was one thing above all else I found sexy about Eric: how fucking good he was at his job. Maybe it was because I came from such a career-driven family, but having a skill and a passion to use it really turned me on.
So you could imagine how damn horny I was when Eric filled me in on what he was really doing with Archie’s laptop.
We had finished our field day and were back in our bedroom, my team taking the trophy (and the $250 Amazon gift cards that came along with it, one for each of us). It had been a fun time without any dramatic blowups, which surprised me. It also reminded me of a time when our family was whole and happy together. It had been a rare occasion and only happened in my early childhood, but they were warm memories nonetheless, and having a little piece of that back felt good.
“Hey, Colt, have you seen my wallet?” Eric asked as he buttoned the last button on his collared shirt. We were getting ready for the second portion of today’s events: the murder-mystery dinner. A little too on the nose for my liking, but I was gay—it’s literally written into the code of my DNA to never say no to a themed dinner party.
“Wasn’t it on the dresser?”
“That’s usually where I put it, yeah… oh, weird. Here it is. On the windowsill.” Eric walked over to the window and grabbed his wallet. He looked like a full-on five-course meal, wearing a sexy pair of black Calvin Klein briefs and the white collared shirt, with tall socks that went up to his calf.
“Anyways,” Eric said, grabbing the pants from the ironing board and tugging them on. “I want to figure out why Wendy is saying ‘I love you’ to her husband’s CFO and why Archie is speaking to journalists about what happened.”
I nodded, bringing my focus back to the matter at hand. “And we’re sure it was Lito on the phone?”
“I’ve got it recorded. That’s who she was talking to.”
“This is such a mess,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed. I’d gotten a little further than Eric, already wearing my slacks and formal navy blue dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up. It had been Jen’s idea to have us all dressed up like we were attending a gala, and it was always hard saying no to her. Besides, I didn’t mind dressing up every now and then. Especially not when I was doing it with a man that looked like Prince Charming mixed with Ricky Martin and a little bit of classic James Dean flair. He was a gentleman that could turn into a wolf at any moment, and that drew me to him like a moth to a burning hot flame.