Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
“I’m being a dick.”
“You’re being a superdick.” I tip my head. “You know they have little capes for cocks, right? With one little clip, we can call you Captain Cock.”
A laugh spurts from him, and his lips hook up the slightest bit. “Pretty sure Captain America doesn’t have a cape.”
“Hey, this is my fan fiction. Get your own.”
Another soft chuckle escapes him, and his gaze roams along my face.
“Come on,” I say softly. “What’s wrong?”
Glancing toward the sliding glass door, he sighs. “It’s dumb shit with the bar.”
“Did someone call in again?”
“No, there’s some electrical issue we have to work out, and we will, but forget all that. Let’s get out of here.” Twisting his wrist, so he can grab hold of my hand, he leads me toward the door. “I’m starving, and the food’s going to be good. My buddy’s wife used to work for some catering business, so she’s always making cool shit.”
“You had me at food.” Climbing inside the car, I buckle myself, waiting until he’s behind the wheel and we’re pulling out to ask, “So what happened to the Mazda? You swore you’d never give up on that thing.”
Crew’s lips form a tight line, creases building along his temples. “Totaled.”
My brows jump, waiting for an explanation.
Is that how he got the second scar on his chin? Or the hint of the one peeking from under the sleeve covering his right bicep?
He says nothing else on the matter, and I swallow the disappointment.
He doesn’t have to share with you everything you’ve missed, Davis.
I swallow, asking something a little more relevant. “So you’re pretty close with this person?”
Small creases frame the edge of Crew’s face, but he nods. “His name’s Willie. He used to work at the bar, but he saved up some money and opened a little brewery. It’s small and only makes enough to sell back to the bar he started at, but it’s his. He’s a good guy.”
“Weird.”
He cuts a quick look my way. “What is?”
“You’re old enough to have married friends now.”
“Girl, you’re not much younger than me.”
“And finally, the man admits it.”
Crew grins but tries to hide it.
“So, you met Willie working at the bar?”
“No, I met him when I visited the bar for the first time. I was dancing with some girl, and the next thing I know, I woke flat on my back, Willie standing over me with an ice pack.” He shakes his head, turning left at the stoplight. “Come to find out, he was the son of the bitch who punched me.”
“I take it the girl you were dancing with was his wife?”
“Nope. His baby sister.”
“That will do it, too.”
“Yes, it will,” he mumbles, and then we’re turning into a small court.
The houses around are small, modest homes, a little older, but clean and welcoming.
Shoving my bathing suit into my small purse, I hustle after Crew, almost having to break out into a run to keep up with his mammoth strides.
He goes to open the door, but I slap his hand away from the knob before he can grip it fully, and he looks at me with a frown.
“Okay, now I’m nervous. Do I really look like a man repellent? I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends. To be honest, I didn’t even think you had friends, so now that I know you do, I really don’t—”
My mouth clamps shut when Crew pushes forward to grip my chin.
“I said I was being an ass.”
“But my pants—”
“Hug your ass nicely and shape your hips just right. Yeah, the legs are baggy, but know what that does?”
I shake my head, and his eyes move between mine.
“It makes a man wonder what’s hidden beneath them.”
“What if they’re mediocre at best?”
Creases form along his brow. “I’ve seen your legs, Davis.”
K, but what does that mean?
Without warning, Crew opens the door and pulls me through it.
Not one foot inside and I’m met with a tall, tan, shirtless man with eyes the color of cotton candy, the blue kind from the fair. His smile’s crooked and deepens by the second, his tongue slipping out to tease along his upper lip and…
“My, oh my,” I mutter. “It’s a fuckboy in the flesh.”
My hand is jerked, my head snapping toward Crew, who glares hard, but it’s the laugh from the man a few feet away that steals the show.
It’s deep and rich and—
Fuckboy’s staring at me.
Now he’s walking toward me!
Oh my god, he’s smirking, and it’s delicious and dirty and—
I can’t do this.
Holy shit, I can’t do this.
Can’t be the butter in the spiciest of feasts, I’ll spread too easy, melt too fast.
I’ll be a puddle for him to lick up and that wasn’t the deal. Crew gets to pick, and something tells me this guy is not the one.
The gorgeous creature stops right in front of me, opens his mouth to speak to me, and my pulse threatens my consciousness, so I do the only logical thing I can think of.