Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Fox sold his shares, got out of the company, and started spending most of his time in Amberfield. I got to see him almost anytime I wanted, and he reassessed his financial portfolio. He wanted to pare down on his luxuries and devote a large portion of his wealth toward creating a foundation. His plan was to fund research toward the ovarian cancer that had claimed his mom’s life so early.
And for the first time in a long time, I had what I knew was real love. Thrilling love. Fox knew the real me, and he still wanted more.
I didn’t know how I’d gotten so lucky.
“Well, would you look at that!” an older man called out as he walked through the front doors of the tavern, looking over at the big sculpture in the center of the room.
“Welcome to Red’s,” I said, giving him a wave.
“Now, son, you’ve got to tell me, is that a sculpture of what I think it is?”
I crossed over to the other side of the bar, walking over to it. “We lovingly call this the Big Rock Cock,” I said. “Some people, myself included, like to believe that rubbing the Big Rock Cock will give you good luck.”
The man cackled, clearly very amused. He reached over and gave the statue a rub. “I hope it works for me tonight.”
“I hope so, too,” I said. “Can I get you started with a drink for tonight?”
I took his order and got started making it behind the bar. I was happy to see that by the time I slid his drink over to him, he was already flirting with another man at the bar.
“I told you the Big Rock Cock gives you real luck,” I whispered to Fox.
“I used to think it was a myth, but now I might believe it,” he said, leaning in to give me a small kiss.
“If you go rub it, I’ll do something special for you tonight,” I told him.
“You do something special for me every night,” he said. “So that’s not a good experiment.”
“Damn. You’re not wrong,” I said.
He lifted his eyebrows. “But I’ll still rub it if you want me to.”
“For me?”
“God, yes,” he said.
He went over and gave it a rub, coming back to the bar afterward.
“You make me do things I never used to do,” Fox said. “And I love it.”
“I make you do a lot of new things,” I said. “Rubbing a marble statue is just the tip of the iceberg.”
He laughed. “Being with you is the best decision I’ve ever made.”
My heart soared. “See? I know I’m not marriage material, but you’ve got to admit I’m fun, right?” I said, wrapping my arms around Fox from behind him and pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.
He hummed, reaching up to run his palms along my forearms. “You are absolutely marriage material.”
I froze in place for a moment, not really believing what I was hearing. “But… I show my ass on Instagram.”
“Not your whole ass,” Fox said. “Just how good it looks in tight shorts.”
“But what about the fact that I’m a total slut for attention and I walk around in silly tank tops flaunting what I’ve got?”
Fox turned slightly in his chair, glancing back at me. I buried my face in his hair, giving him a little kiss there, trying to hide that I was starting to blush.
“It makes you happy to wear the tank tops,” Fox said. “And I am in heaven when I see you happy. Happy husband makes a happy life, right?”
My insides felt molten.
Fox was trying to kill me. Clearly. It was the middle of my shift on a busy night, and here he was teasing me about future marriage propositions, my total Kryptonite.
“Stop talking about this!” I said, squeezing his shoulders before I stood up straight again.
“Why?” he protested, smiling at me as I walked behind the bar again.
“Because my brain will go into overdrive,” I said.
“What?” he asked. I realized that he knew exactly what he was doing to me, and he kept doing it, anyway. His eyes twinkled with mischief. “You don’t like thinking about marrying me one day, Sam?”
“Oh my God,” I said, taking a deep breath.
He chuckled.
“I’m going to need a cold shower. Stop.” I leaned over the bar, whispering to him. “Is it normal to get, like, a half-chub just from hearing the m-word?”
“Marriage?” he whispered, his voice low and velvety near my ear.
I let out a soft moan. “No more. We are only allowed to talk about that kind of thing years from now, when you know you actually mean it. Hush.”
“I know I mean it, Sam,” he said softly. “One day.”
My whole body still felt flushed as I went about my shift, helping people and making some fresh cocktails.
For years, I’d been training myself not to get my hopes up when hot guys told me exciting things. I knew I shouldn’t believe it. I knew that regardless of what happened, it would be many years before marriage was on the table.