Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Are you okay?” Rosie asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I think he’s here.”
She frowns, looking over her shoulder, even though she has no idea who she’s looking for.
“Mr. Stoic,” I prompt.
“Oh, this is going to be good. Where is he?”
“It might not be him—”
“You’ve gone all red,” she laughs. “Jesus. He really has an effect on you.”
I smooth my hair, even though it adds to Rosie’s amusement. “Do I look okay?” I ask. “Just in case he comes over. Nothing in my teeth?” I grin widely, and Rosie shakes her head.
“You don’t think I would have told you by now if there was. What kind of friend do you think I am?”
I touch her arm. “A good one, sweetie.”
“He better come over,” she says. “If he doesn’t, he’s an idiot.”
“I thought you had a good feeling about this one?”
“Yeah, but men.” She leaves that statement hanging because it needs no explanation. There’s a reason we’re both single right now. The picking of good men has proven slim, and neither of us has the patience to linger over a relationship that isn’t worth our time.
I sip my cocktail, desperate for something to take my mind off the fact that I could be about to face the triplets and their weird intensity again, and this time in public. What would Rosie say?
It didn’t happen, my mind whispers. You imagined it all.
Maybe the golden eye thing was a trick of the light, but Hunter’s rabid expression was real, and Robert’s desperate need to push me out the door was also undeniable.
The way we parted wasn’t normal.
I glance over my shoulder again, hoping to glimpse him in the crowd, but instead, I catch the eye of a tall, blond, suited man who’s standing in a group. He smiles broadly, and my instinct to be polite pulls at my cheeks. Damn. He’s coming over.
“Man approaching,” I hiss at Rosie.
She turns with a big smile on her face, expecting Robert. The blond hair is a dead giveaway it’s not.
“Hi,” he says. “I’m Mark.”
“I’m Goldie, and this is Rosie.”
“Hi, Rosie.” His eyes drift over my friend, settling on her bare legs for a second too long. Jesus, dude. Make up your mind! He sways a little on his feet, and his beer sloshes over the edge of his glass onto the floor, splashing Rosie’s feet.
“Jesus,” she exclaims. “You got beer between my toes.”
“I can lick it off for you,” Mark slurs.
This guy is the literal worst.
“I’ll just wipe it off, but thanks for the sweet offer.”
Mark steps back as Rosie strides away, heading for the restroom. “So, Goldie… that’s a pretty name, by the way.”
“Thanks.” I nurse my drink, praying Rosie will return soon.
“How are you enjoying your night?”
“Good so far. What about you?”
“Better now I’m talking to you.”
I feel sorry for the guy. He’s obviously very drunk and lacking in the flirting department. He’s all right-looking but not my type. Too average Joe combined with Captain America; clean lines that aren’t memorable.
“Well, I’m here to catch up with my friend,” I say, hoping to put him off sticking around. I glance over my shoulder, praying Robert will approach. It’s stupid to want him to shoo this guy away, but that’s what I want. A strong, stoic bear of a man to come and defend his territory.
When did I become his territory? Jesus. My brain is sliding into some weird places.
Mark’s friends drift over as Rosie approaches. She’s flushed across her face and chest. “Are you okay?” I whisper.
“I’m having some kind of allergic reaction,” she says. “Must have been something in the sauce for the steak.”
“You think?”
“I don’t know. I should get some antihistamine.”
“Shit. Okay.” I slip from my stool, grabbing my coat as Rosie slides her arms into her denim jacket.
“Where you going?” Mark slurs, grabbing my arm, and I freeze.
“My friend needs to go home.”
“But we’re just getting started.”
“I’m sorry,” I say as Rosie opens her mouth to rail on the guy. He’s too drunk to bother getting angry.
“Don’t be sorry. Stay,” the friend says, leaning in. His beer breath is overpowering.
“We can’t,” I say. “See you around.”
Mark still hasn’t let go of my arm, and I try to pull it back, but he’s a leech.
Behind me, I sense his approach before I see him. “She said she needs to leave.” Robert’s rumbling but calm voice sends a hot pulse of relief through me. I turn, finding him looming over all of us, a veritable wall of man. Rosie’s eyes widen, flicking between Robert and me. Mark finally lets go of my arm as Robert’s extra height and muscle mass register in his animal brain. See, this is what bugs me about the world. I can express myself as much as I like, but it still takes an oversized man to deal with situations like this.