Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Shock sends Letty’s mouth to her high heels and the waiter elsewhere. “How the fuck do you know that?”
“When you’ve only really had one type of job, you get to know the ins and outs of it.” He innocently shrugs before extending an open palm her direction. “Bricks.”
“Letty,” she shakes in return, although her gaze soars to me. “And I thought you were married to a guy named Brendan?”
“My name is Brendan,” my husband corrects on a small chuckle, “but only my mom and my wife call me that.”
Letty nods her understanding and allows herself to grin brightly. “It’s so good to finally meet you!”
“Same.”
The warmth in his tone pushes me into doing something unforeseen.
I nonchalantly adjust my hold and protectively pull him closer.
Why?
Fuck. Me. I don’t know.
It’s just what my gut is telling me to do.
Am I afraid he’s gonna leave me for my best friend?
No.
Could I blame him for thinking about banging her at least once?
Also no.
She’s fucking gorgeous. The literal definition of gorgeous. Won awards for being gorgeous. And is one of the most popular, beloved faces in Hollywood.
I’d actually think something was fundamentally wrong with him if the thought never crossed his mind.
I just…I don’t need her thinking the same things about him.
She can have any dude in the world she wants…except this one.
As if privy to my private thoughts, Brendan unhooks us so that he can rest his arm in its favorite small of my back position. The one that lets his hand rest on my hip and allows his fingers to steal a graze of my ass during “adjustments”. The one that he uses to not only tell the world I’m his but that he’s mine.
Fuck. Me.
I probably shouldn’t love this little shit as much as I do.
However, I do love it.
And him.
Maybe…too much sometimes.
“Gross,” Letty juvenilely gags, “you two are even more nauseatingly adorable in person.”
Light laughter leaves us both as she has a sip of her bubbly beverage.
“And you can both relax,” she insists on a casual gesture to our bodies, “while I think you’re great together, neither of you are great for me.” Her light brown mirth filled stare shifts to mine. “Although, we both know if we played for the same team-”
“We would’ve been married straight out of high school,” I smoothly finish with a sexy smirk and extend my clutch wielding hand for a low fist bump from her.
She taps it using her champagne free hand at the same time she states, “Exactly.”
“Wait, what?” Brendan croaks, voice cracking in noticeable concern that gets her and I laughing again.
“Nothing.” My best friend smiles in her signature fashion, which effortlessly brushes away the spritz of tension. “You know you honestly don’t look any younger in person than you do in your pics which is what I was assuming was gonna happen.”
It’s inconceivable to miss the amusement in his tone. “Oh, so, you’ve seen pics of me?”
“You knocked up and married my best friend—both without my consent—of course I’ve fucking seen pics of you. And Googled you. And stalked your social media account. And had a friend in the FBI do a little colon digging.”
Laughter leaves the three of us as we slowly move further into the Midsummer Night’s Dream decorated space.
“That’s…thorough,” Brendan comments around chuckles.
“I don’t fuck around when it comes to my family.” Her expression hardens in a way that gets me smiling. “However, for the record? I absolutely would’ve given you my blessing,” Letty informs between additional sips. “From what I’ve gathered, you’ve seen enough of the world not to ditch her to see more, Hennington’s balls aren’t bigger than yours, you fuck like a porn star with a top tier Only Fans page, and you have somehow trained her to watch things other than only sports related material and my movies.”
She’s shot a narrowed glare. “Yeah, I don’t like how you said trained.”
“And I don’t like that you had to lose a bet before you’d watch The Best Man with me.”
Annoyance briefly lifts my gaze to the ceiling. “Forfuckssake, you act like you wrote and starred in the damn thing.”
“That’s the only other way I’d get you to watch something with that much drama and that little sports.” Letty hits my husband with another kind expression. “Also, kudos for showing up to boring shit like this for spousal support. I’m really glad you came with her.”
“With her…,” his head slightly bounces back and forth, “in her…on her…” It’s his turn to flash a humor bearing smirk. “Same shit, right?”
There’s no stopping me and my best friend muttering in tandem, “Nice…”
What can I say?!
We’ve loved a well-played dirty line since we were both eight discovering much naughtier shit than I’m pretty sure eight-year-olds had any business learning.
Both of us extend him a round of low bones that conjures more laughter.