Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
A thin twink with a skintight cropped tank waved. “Hi, sweetie, welcome to our crew.” His glossy lips had a natural pout, and the liner around his eyes made them big, bold, and blue as the damn ocean. His hot pink hair was arranged in a tousled style that probably took him an hour to craft. Adorable guy, but not Tate’s type. He preferred his men a little scruffier and a little Tatier, but he could definitely see them hitting it off as friends. Same with Jonah.
“Next to him is Jimmy Don, but he’ll hate you if you call him anything but JD,” he said of the man scowling at him. JD lifted a hand. “I prefer people not know I grew up on a thousand-acre corn field in the middle of nowhere. Jimmy Don takes away my mysterious appeal.”
Laughing, Liam said, “Makes sense to me. As soon as Jonah said your full name, I imagined you in overalls carrying a basket of corn.”
“See,” JD said to Jonah as everyone laughed. He certainly didn’t have the look of someone who worked on a farm, more like a guy who walked off a cologne ad with tanned skin, perfectly styled light brown hair, and a jawline a sculptor would drool over. Designer sunglasses hung from the collar of his polo. Liam had a feeling that under his clothes, he was muscular, tanned, and hairless.
“Whatever.” Jonah waved away JD’s complaints. “You haven’t even been around corn in ages. Hell, you haven’t been in Oklahoma in ages.” He turned to Liam. “JD just got off back-to-back European photoshoots with a big-name designer.” He pouted. “But he isn’t allowed to tell us who it is yet. It’s ‘in his contract,’” he said, making air quotes.
Nailed it.
JD rolled his eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal,” he said, though his eyes sparkled with excitement. Liam would bet money the designer the guy modeled for was high-end and one they’d all lose their minds over. He’d be lying if he said the prospect of having a connection like that wasn’t exciting.
“And last but not least, Murphy.”
Liam faced the last and largest of the men. Gigantic was the most accurate description. And a little scary. He wore a scowl that didn’t seem to be directed Liam’s way, more his natural resting state.
Murphy nodded once in greeting but didn’t say anything.
“He’s the strong, silent type,” Jonah said in a stage whisper that had him earning a glare from Murphy. Instead of cowering under the intensity, Jonah laughed. “He’s all bark, well, all glower, and no bite. Murph works security for JD’s family’s farm. He’s a real live cowboy.”
“No,” Murphy said, speaking for the first time. “Not a cowboy.” He had a strong face and a nose with a hint of a bump as though it had been broken in the past. Thick, dark eyebrows arched over his equally dark eyes. His hair was mostly hidden beneath a Jon Deere trucker hat, but it seemed as dark as the rest of his features. The guy had muscles on top of muscles and could probably crack a walnut with one squeeze of his fist.
He was so different from the other three. Liam would love to know how they all became friends.
“Nice to meet you all,” Liam said with a smile. “What’s everyone drinking?”
“Carmel macchiato,” Jonah answered first. “Iced.”
“Iced chai latte.” Trevor shook his vat of a beverage before taking a sip.
“Skinny vanilla latte with almond milk,” JD answered, making the others roll their eyes.
“This one doesn’t do sugar,” Trevor said, thumbing his hand JD’s way. “Heaven forbid he gains an ounce.”
“What about you?” Liam turned to Murphy, who had a large to-go cup of something hot.
“Black coffee.”
Liam couldn’t hold back his grin. “Shoulda guessed that one. Let me grab a drink, and I’ll be right back.” Thankfully, there wasn’t a line, and he was back with his oat milk brown sugar latte in minutes.”
“So, Liam,” Trevor said when he returned to the table. “What’s your story?”
“My story?”
“Yeah.” Trevor propped his chin on his hand and batted his thick eyelashes. “Where are you from? What do you do? Why the hell did you move to Swan?”
“Ahh.” He sipped his drink and then set it down on the table. “From New York. I grew up about an hour north of the city, but most recently, I lived in New York City. I was a principal dancer in the New York City Ballet Company.”
Trevor’s eyes widened. “No shit? That’s incredible. Now I really wanna know why you’re here in the middle of nowhere.”
“I moved here to open a dance studio.” He plastered on a smile that felt fake.
“I’m hearing great things about it,” Jonah said. “For the first time ever, people are willingly driving from Culpepper to Swan so their kids can dance with a true professional.”