Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“You’re such a good listener!” Aviva sweetly praises the woman to my left while I craftily pocket the tool for an emergency combat situation. “I just love that about you.”
“I love that about you too,” I firmly state, yanking her attention back to me. “And I also love when I don’t have to hold your hair back ‘cause you forget it’s one tequila, two tequila, six tequila, floor.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah.”
“Halloween.”
Her nose scrunches in objection causing her bright, round orange frames to bounce. “That was a holiday.”
“When the Dragons lost their tenth game last season.”
“I was in mourning!”
“When Blu and I got back from Monaco in March.”
“We were celebrating!”
A pointed look is all she’s offered.
“I’ll have you know,” her hand falls defiantly to her hip, “I can hold my tequila, thank you very much.”
“Doesn’t sound like it,” Lila indifferently rebuts prior to taking her drink. “Put ‘em all on my tab, Hunt.”
He slides another of the same drink onto the bar. “You got it, Lila.”
Suddenly, the music shifts tempos from some classic Dolly to an older Carrie Underwood song that excites the woman I am secretly praying disappears into the arms of any man in the room willing to have her. Bonus points if he happens to be far, far, far the fuck away from here. “Oh! I love this song!”
“And I would love that tequila,” my better half states to the man handing Blu his beer. “Or the bottle. Can I have the whole bottle? Save on the dishes?”
“You-”
“Do. Not.” The tone I take is even firmer than the pointed finger he’s shot. “Serve. Her. The. Whole. Bottle.”
“Come on, Vi Vi,” Lila gently tugs her friend behind her, “let’s see if we can get a fun line dance going with just the ladies in the room.”
Hunt places an empty glass in front of Arley and cocks a smirk. “Man, do I love to watch that woman move.”
“Could you pour?” She taps the top of it. “Please.”
“Angel Cake-”
“Faster.”
He nods, pops the bottle of Torrez, and begins to fill the glass. Once it hits what would be about two shots worth, he garnishes it with lime. Unfortunately, before he has the chance to ask if we need anything else, Arley guzzles down the contents and mercilessly sucks all the juice possible out of the wedge.
Not wincing at the sight of her teeth sinking aggressively into the fruit is difficult.
Fuck, that’s an image that’s gonna be hard to shake the next time she’s on her knees for me.
Assuming she will be, and that this accidental fuckery hasn’t completely somehow managed to set us back into the cold showers and hand job zone.
Cautiously, I call out, “Angel-”
“Another, please!” This time her entire palm lightly pats the drinkware. “And maybe to the top? Like alllllllll the way to the top.”
Instinct has me anxious to interfere again. “Arley-”
“How come they didn’t invite me to dance?” The interrogation is shot around my body to Blu, proving she’s purposely ignoring me, although, I’m not sure why. I didn’t exactly suggest we summon some chick I went out with one time to our double date cover. That was just an unhappy accident. Or the angels asking we light better scented candles. “Am I not a lady?!”
“You’re such a fucking lady,” Blu impishly needles.
I shoot him a warning glare not to do the shit I know he’s doing.
“And I can be fun!” She stomps her cowboy boot covered foot on a pout.
“So. Fun.” Echoes my second, receiving a kick in the side of his ankle.
He needs to knock that shit off right the fuck now.
We don’t need another problem in this situation.
And a loud, drunk target would most certainly be a fucking problem when the objective is to blend in.
Not standout.
“And I can dance!” Arley swipes up the half full glass causing liquid to splash out. “I’m a good dancer!”
“You’re the best fucking dancer,” he insists on a tip of his beer bottle. “Go out there and show them!”
“Yes!” She chokes back a couple more gulps, sucks on the new wedge, and sassily slams it down. “Yes!”
Hunt lifts the bottle to top it off prompting me to gnarl, “Pour her another drop, and you’ll be learnin’ to bartend with your fuckin’ feet.”
He recaps the expensive beverage at the same time Blu urges her away, “Go! Go! Go out there! Go out there and dance like nobody’s fucking watching.”
“Yes! Yee-haw!”
It takes every muscle in my body not to grunt in disapproval over the stereotyped exclamation.
“Yeeeee-fucking-haaaaw, cowgirl!”
His last push convinces Arley to strut out a short distance in front of us to join the easy-to-follow line dance while I slowly spin around to maintain a watchful eye on the disaster unfolding. Keeping my gaze focused on her rather than her hips that are swaying unironically to “Before He Cheats”, I mumble, “I’m prepared to stage a bar fight just to give you the beatin’ you’re askin’ for.”