Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Elliot’s expression turns icy. “If you give me his name and address, I’ll go make him feel worse.”
That’s hot. Should that be so hot? “Thank you for offering, but he’s not worth it. I’ve moved on.”
“With the guy in the elevator?”
I’m mid-swallow when he asks, so there are some undignified bubbles and a loud snort that follows. Once I was expecting. But twice? “Stop. He was great, and he’s going to make someone very happy someday with his cakes and flexibility. But it won’t be me.”
“Good.”
Good? I want to take a deep dive into that, but then I hear the opening lyric that makes me shout along with the rest of the crowd and hop to my feet while Elliot looks on, his expression of shock one for the photo album.
I’m cryyyyying
Cuz I looooove you
Calamity obviously shares my love of this Lizzo song, because she’s lip-synching into her beer bottle to our thoroughly seduced bartender. When she sees my reaction, the beer hits the bar and she grabs my hand. “I knew I liked you, babysitter. Now come on, and shake your Manny maker.”
It’s a remix of the original, but it still has that funky sway that we’re both following drunkenly with our hips, not bothering with the dance floor because it’s too crowded as it is.
Most of the bar is singing about being love-impaired when I glance over in Elliot’s direction with a laugh.
His expression makes my heart stutter. He has this endearingly lost look on his rugged features, like he’s not quite sure how he got here, but he might like it.
Straight?
Calamity Kate leans toward him and snags his hand in hers, tugging him off his stool to join us. Elliot starts to shake his head, looking to me for help, but I just shrug and shimmy while she gets her way.
He may as well give in. He needs this as much as I do, especially after the stress of the last few months.
I smirk when he stumbles into me and then stares at Calamity in surprise.
“She’s little, but she’s strong,” he says, leaning closer to be heard over the chorus of drunken revelers.
“It’s that Finn blood,” I tell him, knowing Calamity can read my lips. “They’re all forces of nature.”
I think he mutters something about hurricanes, but then the music transitions. Same artist, but this time the song is one he might actually know. What are the odds?
Seriously.
“Isn’t this a Bee Gees cover? Looks like the universe wants you to dance, neighbor.”
Disco has never been my go-to dance music, but watching the sea of college students and boxers transform into their grandparents—complete with their own versions of hustling, funky chickens and that infamous disco finger—is impossible to resist.
Elliot is laughing with Calamity as she bumps their hips together, and he looks so relaxed and happy, there’s no way I’m complaining.
Beer-bro mission accomplished.
Sort of.
I’m dancing across from him, too tipsy for my own good and mentally reenacting all the fantasies I’ve had about him for the last few days. Of course, while I’m doing that, he might be debating whether or not he’d like to give being the lone penis in a Calamity sandwich a try.
He might want to shake her hand.
I pretend exhaustion and turn back toward the bar. Calamity’s girlfriend is the best bartender in the world, because she’s already handing me a bottle of icy-cold water.
“I’m going to tip you like you’ve never been tipped before.”
She laughs, but her attention is drawn back to our clumsily dancing duo, and I have no choice but to join her. They look good together. Superman and Poison Ivy.
Don’t be a dick.
“It’s like accidentally grabbing a comet and trying to hold on with her.” Patricia leans against the bar, pensive despite the loud music and boisterous crowd. “Impossible, but you’ve still got to try, because how often does someone like that come along? You know?”
She’s talking about Calamity, but I can’t take my eyes off of Elliot. “Not very often.”
Calamity whispers something in Elliot’s ear, and then they’re both looking in my direction with matching mischief in their eyes. What exactly am I about to agree to?
“I think your break is over.”
“This should be fun.”
Chapter Ten
Elliot
The last time I went to a bar was with my team, and our talk was confined to braggadocio and boobs. They were all looking to let off steam with the nearest willing partner after a challenging win. They were people I played with, traveled with, practically lived with; but our idea of a fun night out contained insult hurling, arm wrestling and peacocking for the fans. Emphasis on cock. The only similarity to tonight was the drinking.
This is different.
Might have something to do with the company.
For not having that much experience being the life of the party, Joey Redmond is damn good at it.