Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Yeah. She’s qualified, she’s got the time, and she’s hungry for redemption. If she can match the four of us, she’ll be able to write her own ticket.”
“And if she can’t?” River asks.
“Then she’ll have enough money to retire. Look, this is pennies to us, and she has a great record…except for the last screwup.”
Alex sighs. “I’m good with whatever you guys decide. But why did we have to come here to have this discussion? Being here gives me the creeps.”
“Me too.” I nod. “It’s like walking into the past. I almost felt Old Man Larson’s ghost in there.”
Alex drops his jaw. “You went inside?”
“Yeah. I think we all should. I mean, we own the damned place.”
“We own it for a reason,” Brett says, his voice tight.
He’s right. The house itself isn’t worth the rotting lumber it’s built with. The land has some value, but there are things here that shouldn’t be disturbed…and they won’t be, as long as we’re the owners.
River walks ahead of me. “I agree with Seb. Let’s go in. We owe it to Jake.”
Present Day…
I jolt out of my memory when Heather Hill walks off the dance floor, her forehead shiny with perspiration.
“Hey,” she says with a smile. “You want to dance?”
“Not my thing,” I tell her, “but I’ll be glad to join you for a drink.”
“Not your thing? You’re a rocker.”
“I sing. I play guitar. I don’t dance.”
“A drink then?” Heather pushes a strand of blue-tipped black hair off her forehead. “But I’m having water. I think I’ll pour it over my head.”
I glance down at the royal-blue dress clinging to her, two tight nipples already protruding. “That I wouldn’t mind seeing. Come on.” I grab her hand and lead her to the bar.
“Yes, sir?” Zion, the bartender, asks.
“A large glass of water for the lady, and bourbon for me.”
“Any particular brand?”
“Whatever Alex is drinking. He knows bourbon better than any of us.”
“Good enough. Mr. Maxwell drinks Angel’s Envy and Pappy Van Winkle’s. Your choice.”
“Angel’s Envy is fine.” Pappy’s is the best, but I like a good bourbon. Great is lost on me.
After Zion prepares our drinks, I take them and lead Heather to a vacant table. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Emily talking to Ariel.
“So how was it?” Heather asks.
I return my gaze to her as I swirl the bourbon in my glass. “How was what?”
“Your threesome. We were all waiting for the big announcement and saw you come out of the house. Then those two—Ariel and Emily—followed you.”
I chuckle. “There was no threesome, Heather.”
“Then what were you—”
I hold up my hand to stop her. “I don’t kiss and tell. We’re all just getting to know each other. Nothing happened. No threesome.”
“Have you had a threesome before?” she asks.
“I have,” I admit. Why lie?
Her eyes light up. “With who?”
“Didn’t I just say I don’t kiss and tell?”
She giggles and takes a drink of her water. Then she takes her cocktail napkin and wipes the perspiration from her forehead. “You did say that. But it may interest you to know that I’m not opposed to threesomes.”
I smile, sip my bourbon, swallow. She’s a hair stylist, so I reach around, pull the band out of my ponytail, and let my long hair fall around my shoulders.
Her eyes widen. Most women—especially hair stylists—can’t resist my long, thick locks. Her nipples respond next, hardening further through her blue dress.
Mission accomplished. I smile. “Heather, that interests me very much.”
EPISODE 12
MEAN GIRLS AND A WARDROBE MALFUNCTION
Ariel
I’m trying to avoid staring at Brett. After pulling Emily and me onto the dance floor, he hasn’t given me another look. He’s been too busy dancing, first with Sienna and then Heather. No more time for the woman who ran off and admitted defeat, at least in her head. He’s still on the dance floor—and I swear there’s a magnet drawing my eyes to him.
I force myself to look away. Heather is talking to Sebastian, and Sienna is…
I dart my gaze around the courtyard.
No Sienna.
And no Alex.
One man down.
River is sitting at a table with June and Misty…and he doesn’t look happy, though he’s a brooding cowboy. I’m not sure I’ve seen him smile yet.
Brett is dancing with Ginger now—a slow dance. She’s so tall and glamorous. Her arms are wrapped around Brett’s neck and she’s gazing into his ocean-blue eyes…
Yeah, landing a man like that is a pipe dream. Like the richest and best-looking man here would really go for me.
I turn at a nudge on my shoulder.
Emily holds two full champagne flutes and offers me a commiserating smile. “Bar’s closing, love. We’d better get another drink while we have the chance.”
I take the flute from her. “Thanks.”
She glances toward the table where Heather is draped over Sebastian. “I like Heather, and she’s a wildly talented stylist, but at the moment I’d really love to claw her eyes out.”