Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Previews for the new Marvel movie rolled across the screen. She sat right beside me, making a dramatic show of crossing one leg over the other, then adjusting the hem of her skirt. Of course she had worn a skirt. Girls wore crap like that to the movies for one reason and one reason only. And I had no interest in fingering her—even if she was halfway-decent looking.
That was when I realized just how much Monroe had fucked me up—I wouldn’t even finger a half-way decent girl.
As if the movie and Samantha’s clear desperation weren’t torture enough, Wolf dragged me to the Waffle Hut afterward. His date must have been a damn good negotiator because she was making absolute dicks out of us both. Dinner and a movie. Such bullshit.
After everyone had placed their drink order, the girls disappeared to the restroom. I leaned my forearms over the table, staring across at Wolf. “I swear to God, Wolf. I’m going to kill you.”
“What?” He grabbed one of the grease-covered menus and popped it open. “You didn’t get any head?”
“Fuck you.”
He laughed. “Never thought I would see the day Zepp Hunt was pussy whipped.”
I chucked the saltshaker at him. If there was anything I was not, it was pussy whipped, especially when the girl in question hadn’t even gotten hers out around me.
“Shame too.” On an exhale, he tossed the menu down. “I got some killer head in the theatre.”
Giggles drowned out the crappy music playing over Waffle Hut’s sound system, and our “dates” came back to the table, smiling as they slipped into the booth beside us.
Samantha twirled a piece of hair around her finger, glancing around the hole-in-the-wall restaurant filled with bikers and the local prostitute propped against the jukebox smoking a cigarette. I was one hundred percent certain she had never been to a place like this in her life.
“This place is...” She cleared her throat. “Um. Cute.”
Wolf must have seen the last thread of patience I had with this girl leave. That was the only reasonable explanation as to why he decided to stoke the fire. “Zepp.” His hand slapped the table. “You gonna see if Samantha wants to come hang out at the house sometime?”
“Oh, I would love to.” She nodded like one of those stupid bobbleheads assholes have stuck to their dashboards.
“Wolf, you gonna get that fucking name before I take this steak knife and stab you?” I took the knife and fisted it, my gaze aimed right at him.
The bell over the door dinged. The whoosh of the highway swooped inside, followed by Jade, then Monroe.
“Oh shit,” Wolf snickered. “And the plot thickens. Dum. Dum. Dum!”
I took the pepper shaker and nailed him in the forehead. I wasn’t sure what was going on between Monroe and me. But whatever it was, I liked it. Enough that I couldn’t even enjoy the spoils of some Barrington bimbo. And even I knew that a girl like Monroe wouldn’t toy with the idea of me for long.
“Move.” I shoved Samantha, but she didn’t budge.
“Excuse me?” she whined.
God, I didn’t have time for this crap. I stood in the booth, placed my boot onto the table—knocking Samantha’s soda in her lap—then hopped to the floor. The shriek Samantha let out was enough to make the entire Waffle Hut fall silent. Definitely enough to warrant the daggers Monroe shot at me before a slight frown slipped over her face.
I flopped down in her booth, slid right up next to her, and flung my arm around her shoulder.
She shrugged out of my hold, focusing her attention on the laminated menu. “Are you on a date?”
“Do you care?”
“That I’m your scapegoat for a shitty date with a Barrington girl? Yes.” There was a level of hostility to that statement that I thoroughly enjoyed.
“It wasn’t a date,” I said.
Jade folded her arms over her chest with more attitude than I had ever seen her give. “Sure looks like a date.”
“It’s not.” I rested my forearms over the table. “I don’t date girls. I don’t take them out. I don’t invite them over to my house for extended periods.” I glanced at Monroe, hoping she picked up on that last bit; she sure as shit had been at my house more than any other girl.
“Great. Well, then maybe you should go back to your ‘not date,’” Monroe said, flipping the menu over to the dinner selection. No one ever ordered dinner from Waffle Hut... “She looks like she misses you.”
I brushed a piece of hair behind Monroe’s shoulder, focusing on her lips. “You’re hot when you’re angry, you know it?”
“You’re full of shit, you know it?”
“You should learn to take a compliment.” I snatched the menu out of her hands, and she took it right back.
“Oh, Zeppelin Hunt wants in my pants.” She pressed her hand to her chest, fluttering her eyelashes before a sour expression settled on her face. “What a compliment.” She waved a hand toward Wolf and the Barrington girls. “It obviously doesn’t take much.”