Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
“And I will drink to that, hun,” I say.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Owen’s spine straighten.
He whips his gaze to me. Behind those glasses, his eyes flick from me to TJ and back.
I want to tell him I’m not flirting with his friend.
I’m just . . . in bartender mode.
Just like he’s in PR guy mode.
And, usually, those settings work just fine for us.
Right now, though, I’m not keen on either one, but I do my best to mix and chat, making small talk with everyone. The whole time, I’m sneaking glances at Owen as he meticulously slices carrots.
I’ve never noticed how he slices vegetables before.
Why would you, dipshit? You don’t ordinarily watch people slice carrots.
But it’s not the way he’s cutting the veggies that’s transfixing me. It’s his hands. Those hands felt so good all over my body last night. They felt incredible in my hair, down my arms, on my waist.
Great.
Now I’m getting turned on in the kitchen while I should focus on my Friendsgiving job. Listening, asking questions, mixing drinks. Being an excellent guest.
But dear Lord, it was heaven when Owen roped his fingers through mine in the hot tub. How he held me.
My stomach flips from the memory.
I want to walk over to him right now, set his knife down, take his hand and tell everyone he’s mine, just mine, all mine.
But I won’t put him on the spot in front of his friends. In front of his colleagues.
I can’t assume he wants what I want, and I definitely can’t just smash my way into his love life like a bull in a china shop.
You don’t tell someone you’re crazy about him in the middle of a public event. I won’t do it.
Instead, I knock back the rest of my old-fashioned.
“So, how did you two meet?” I ask Jillian and Jones, and the pair of lovebirds launches into the tale.
I am interested as they tell me the story.
At least, I’m doing my very best to be, and I hope my face doesn’t reveal where my thoughts truly are.
Maybe it’s my fault, but “how did you meet” becomes the question at dinner a few hours later.
TJ points at the hostess and her wife. “You two have to go first,” he says, then to the group in a stage whisper, “Since they have the cutest story.”
“Novel-worthy?” Reese asks TJ.
“Meaning, will I steal it as a premise for the next great romance? You know, I just might,” he says, takes a bite of his salad, chews, then shoots a wide-eyed look at the moms-to-be. “’Fess up.”
Nisha smiles shyly.
Hailey grins, sets a hand on her wife’s shoulder. “We were in the library. We both wanted to check out the same book. It was a Calvin and Hobbes.”
“And instead, we checked out each other,” Nisha puts in.
The entire table awws.
“Okay, that’s meet-cute worthy, especially since Calvin and Hobbes are cool. What else have we got?” TJ asks, gesturing to Brooks and Steven. “The Brit and the American. I’d like to hear this story.”
Setting down his martini, the Brit laughs and shakes his head. “We’re just a typical boy-meets-boy-online story,” Steven says.
“Nothing wrong with that. It’s how lots of couples meet these days,” TJ says.
“I swear, half the couples at my bar met on an app. Many of whom are happily married,” I put in as I spear a forkful of salad and chew. Contributing to this conversation is better than stewing about when I’ll get a moment alone with Owen.
Steven waggles a platinum band. “We’ll be getting married in the spring. I’m so glad I used Boyfriend Material.”
Owen chokes, covers his mouth with his hand, and nearly spits out his water.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Nisha asks, momming him.
“Fine. Just fine,” he says, sputtering, his cheeks flashing pink.
I burn. That stupid fucking app. Owen better have taken down his profile last night right after the first time I made him come. If not then, definitely after that second orgasm when he called my name at the top of his lungs.
But I’m sure he didn’t delete it. After all, he didn’t look at his phone once after we kissed. I kept him plenty busy, thank you very much.
Maybe he killed his profile in the magic dog van.
If he didn’t, I will hack his phone and destroy that profile, because there is no way anyone else will get his hands on Guy With Glasses.
And what the fuck is wrong with me?
I am not a jealous guy.
I am not a possessive alpha.
I am not this person at all.
But I can’t stand the thought of Owen seeing anyone else, touching anyone else, falling for anyone else.
“Drink some water, sweetie,” Nisha says to Owen, handing him his glass.
“I swear I’m okay,” he mutters.
“Wait. Is that how you two met? Did you and River meet on that app?” Once Tobey’s question makes landfall, the table goes quiet.