Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
I chuckle, sitting up. “What about you, Ms. Greene? I get that this is custom Italian, and you prefer a pair of old Levi’s or worn-in Wranglers on me, but do you find me distracting?”
Our drinks are delivered, and we order our food. As soon as we’re alone again, she replies, “You have me ready to skip to dessert.” She leans so close that our noses touch. “Dessert being you and me in that giant bed of yours.”
Fuck me.
The woman gives my lines a run for the money.
She kisses me, then settles back and takes a sip of her cocktail like she didn’t just cause an erection that I’ll be fighting for the rest of the night. I scan the room for our server, and ask, “Wonder what’s taking the food so long?”
I spend the next ten minutes making small talk in hopes of my boner going down. It takes three changes of topic and landing on the time I ate sea urchin and ended up in the hospital to do the trick.
The food is delivered, and as she cuts into her chicken, she asks, “Will I get to see Beckett while I’m here?”
“He’s with his mother this week, so maybe next time.”
She takes another bite of food but then sets her fork down again. “This meal is amazing. I’ll be too spoiled to return to the ranch after this.”
“I’m not seeing the problem.” I take a bite of steak and watch a smile appear on her pretty face.
“I’m sure you don’t.” She takes another sip, finishing off her drink, then sets the napkin down on the leather bench. When she starts to slide out of the booth, she looks back at me. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Be right back,” she singsongs.
I watch her walk away, checking out that fine ass of hers as she tugs her skirt down. I can’t stop a laugh from escaping. Pris is exactly who she is—not pretending to be less or more and comfortable within her skin. It’s so fucking attractive.
I cut another piece of my steak, but right when I take the bite, Baylor slides into the booth. “Imagine two best buds at the same restaurant at the same time. What a coincidence, man.” He holds his hand out for me to shake, but the steak gets caught in my throat.
Hacking, I lean forward, more worried about him killing me for dating his sister than dying from choking on a piece of meat. Wait . . . that’s not the headline I want announcing my death. He whacks my back just as I finally swallow it down. I take a large gulp of water, my gaze traveling to where Pris disappeared before shifting back to him. I clear my throat, and ask, “What the fuck are you doing here?” And now I’m pretending neither of us heard my voice raise two octaves higher than what’s natural.
He sits back, spreading his arms wide across the back of the booth like he’s settling in for a while. “Good score on the booth. We’re stuck near the kitchen, but my date said I’ll get laid if I score a reservation at this place.”
“Apparently, she didn’t know who she was messing with.”
“Right?” He takes my glass and sips the bourbon, giving me a chance to look to make sure Pris isn’t returning just yet. “That’s good. You’re spending the big bucks tonight. She must be special. I only caught a glimpse of the bombshell before she slipped behind the curtain to the bathrooms.”
“Um.” I rub my forehead, having no doubt I’m going to hell for this. Yet I do it anyway and lie, “It’s a friend.”
“A friend you fuck?”
“What the fuck, Baylor?”
“Sorry,” he says, dropping his arms to his sides. “I don’t know what’s going on in your life because you’re always working. Should have chosen personal finance over commercial. You’d get a lot more time off.”
My eyes shift from him to the curtain and then to him again. “Listen, I have Beck this coming week. Come over and we’ll have a guys’ night in and watch the game.”
“Yeah, sure.” He slips out the booth, seemingly satisfied with the plan.
He’s right. I’ve been avoiding him more and more frequently. The closer I get to Pris, the further I get from him. That’s not fair to our friendship. Not wanting to make this all about me, I ask, “You still seeing that girl from the gym?”
“Yeah, that didn’t work out.” He stands tableside with his back to the curtained-off area that will produce his sister at any moment now. “I had to join a different gym downtown.”
“Oh damn, that sucks.”
He runs his hand over his head, not afraid to mess up his hair. “It got so bad that I considered a restraining order. Changing gyms was easier. A good lesson in not fucking women over.”