Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Stefan smiles with genuine affection for his friend. “That’s very him.”
“Is he a white knight?”
“He doesn’t like it when people are hurting. He wants to fix things,” he says.
“You like that about him.”
“Yeah. I do. He’s a good guy. I can always count on him.” Stefan says all this with no jealousy, no weirdness—just a rock-solid understanding of who Hayes is.
Maybe good guys are good in bed. I can’t wait to tell Jackson just how great some are. “He seems to be,” I say.
“I’m glad he’ll be there at the wedding. To protect you,” Stefan adds, then glances at the clock. A reminder that it’s ticking, and we both have places to be.
“What sort of threats do you think I’ll encounter at a faux fairy-tale woodland wedding?”
With a shrug, Stefan says, “Bears, I suppose.”
“He could protect me from a bear?”
“Yes. But here’s a tip—if there’s a bear, just run faster than Hayes.”
I crack up, then I stop laughing when Stefan kisses me quiet. “Shh. Don’t wake that bear.”
“But I have morning breath,” I whisper in protest.
“I don’t fucking care,” he says, giving me another kiss. “I’ve been wanting to wake up next to you for a long time. Don’t you get it?”
He’s thoroughly over his former fiancée and into me? I don’t know that I do get it. I don’t know that I understand what Stefan wants from me either.
Except I suppose I do know his actions and his words. Pretty sure he wants more. Maybe he even thinks we’re involved?
What does more mean though? For him, for me, for my job, and for…the three people in bed? We still work together. I don’t want to lose my job or my focus on rebuilding my career.
We kiss for a few more seconds till he pulls back with some reluctance.
He drops a kiss to my nose. “I should go. I have to make a few calls before this breakfast thing, and you have the annulment. But we should—” He cuts himself off when he looks to Hayes, then winces. “I should go.”
I swear he was going to ask to see me again. And I want to say yes.
But I don’t know how this works. Any of this. Instead, I let him go with a soft smile and a thanks for last night.
When he’s gone, I head to my suitcase and tug on a long T-shirt, staring at the gold band on my finger, then checking out the matching one on the man still in bed. They look so surreal. Both will be gone in an hour, and only last night’s crew, an Elvis impersonator, and a showgirl will be the wiser. Yesterday, I felt surprisingly empowered saying I do. I wasn’t the yes-woman I’d been to Simone for the last year. I was yes-womaning myself. I said goodbye to the person who wanted to please a boss who never truly cared about her. Let go of the woman who wanted to spend time with a guy who never truly saw who she was or bothered looking. I embraced the woman, the new me, who felt empowered enough to ask for two men in bed.
That daring night was like a fabulous outfit that makes a statement.
But like all good outfits, you can hang it up and tuck it into the closet once you take it off. As I grab some fresh clothes for today, Hayes stirs at last. Blinks his eyes. Scrubs a hand over his scruffy jaw. Meets my gaze. “Hey.”
His voice is froggy.
“You’re a heavy sleeper.”
With a smile, he scratches his head. “Yeah, I am. Were you guys up for a while?”
“Just chatting,” I say.
He hums. “That sounds nice.”
There’s no jealousy from him, and it’s so fascinating. I don’t know what to make of it. But I know this. Last night is over, and daylight has come.
He pushes up on his elbows and checks the time. “I should get ready for our…” He doesn’t seem to want to say it.
“Annulment,” I supply, just so he doesn’t forget we have an appointment.
He winces like Stefan did before he left. Like this pains him. I feel off as well. But what, exactly, is making me sad? Is it the marriage ending? Or is it the ending of the unexpected connection forged between the three of us after dark?
I have no answers. I hunt for a pair of jeans. Hayes is laser focused as he picks up his discarded clothes. He tugs on his jeans and T-shirt, smooths a hand down his chest, and blows out a breath. That feels final too. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in thirty minutes. Is that enough time?”
“I’ll be ready in twenty,” I say, resolute. I refuse to be someone who hangs on too long.
With a crisp nod, he leaves, and, missing my two men, I prepare for the end of my eight-hour marriage.