Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Evan seeks out my eyes over Ren’s shoulder, frowning slightly when he discerns my expression. Yeah, he knows my feelings on this matter. I’ve never been good at hiding my jealousy.
“Gonna grab drinks,” Tate says. He nudges Alana’s arm, then gestures to her empty bottle. “Want a refill?”
“Nah. Thanks, though.” To my surprise, Alana slides out of her chair. “Gen and I were about to take off. We’re meeting Steph.”
I don’t call her out on the lies. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind getting out of here too. Before I do something I’m going to regret. It’s taking all my willpower not to rip Ren away from Evan and fuck him right there in front of everyone to stake my claim. And that’s terrifying to me. He’s not mine anymore. I have no claims on him, and these raw, visceral emotions he evokes in me are too overwhelming.
“Yeah.” I stand up and touch Chase’s arm. “Would you tell Jordy we had to duck out early, but that he totally crushed it tonight?”
“Sure thing,” Chase says easily.
“Alana—” Tate starts, then stops abruptly. His blue eyes cloud over for a second before taking on a careless veil. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
“You too.”
Alana and I practically sprint out of the bar. I feel Evan’s gaze boring a hole into my back as we flee.
“Are you going to explain what that was all about?” I grumble as we step into the warm night breeze.
Alana just sighs. “I don’t want him to think we’re together, so every now and then I remind him by being a bitch.”
I nod slowly. “Fine. And Wyatt? You going to tell me what the hell is happening there?”
Her expression darkens. “I told you before, there’s nothing happening except that he thinks he has a crush on me.”
“Maybe he does.”
“He doesn’t,” she says flatly. “We’ve been friends forever, and he doesn’t know what he’s fucking talking about.”
In other words, back off. So I do. I don’t press her, and in return she doesn’t press me about what’s happening between me and Evan. Not that I would have been able to answer that question. My feelings for Evan Hartley have always been far too complicated to articulate.
Alana and I part ways. Ten minutes later, I’m pulling into my driveway at home when my phone buzzes. I fish it out of the cup holder and check the screen.
Evan: Why’d you run off?
Sighing, I tap out a quick response.
Me: Alana wasn’t in the mood for Tate.
The urge to type a follow-up makes my fingers itch. I try to resist it and fail.
Me: And I wasn’t in the mood to watch you rubbing up all over Ren.
Evan: Ha! She was rubbing up all over me. I was an innocent bystander.
Me: I’m sure it was torture for you.
Evan: It was. Whenever there’s a chick grinding up on me, my poor dick yells at me and demands to know why that chick isn’t you.
My cheeks feel warm all of a sudden. He’s not the most poetic man out there, but he does have a way with words. And those words never fail to turn me on.
Me: I thought you were reformed. “We’re not having sex, yada yada.”
Evan: I didn’t say we were going to have sex. Just that my dick misses you.
Me: You still with Ren?
Evan: No, she wandered off the moment she realized she didn’t have an audience anymore. Just chilling with the boys now.
There’s a short delay. Then:
Evan: We still on for next weekend?
This is my chance to back out. To say, “You know what, I changed my mind about the whole wooing thing. Let’s just try to be friends.”
What I say instead is:
Me: Yes.
CHAPTER 19
EVAN
Wyatt taps two fingers on the kitchen table. Cooper also checks after the turn. I’m sitting on a possible jack-high straight, but I’ve got a fairly good idea that Tate’s got the king, and I’m not about to blow my stack to see the river. I check.
“Tate, it’s your call, hurry up,” Wyatt shouts.
“He checks,” Coop says, huffing as he peeks at his cards again, like they’ve changed since he looked at them twenty seconds ago.
“Yeah, I bet your pair of threes says he checks.”
“Then you should have raised,” Coop tells Wyatt, getting irritated. “Let’s see that king already.” At that, Wyatt shakes his head with a knowing smile. Because Coop is a poor sport and it’s sort of a running gag at this point.
When we were kids, he’d steal from the bank in Monopoly and throw a fit when he was losing. After numerous tantrums, we started egging him on for fun just to see the fireworks. Really, it’s one of the few things that keeps poker interesting when I’m playing my brother. Play with anyone long enough and there ceases to be any mystery left. With twins, it’s worse. I might as well be staring at his cards. We can’t bluff each other.