Dishonestly Yours (Webs We Weave #1) Read Online Krista Ritchie, Becca Ritchie

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: , Series: Becca Ritchie
Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
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Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
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Veering back around, I drop the cushions on the floor and catch Chelsea’s eyes. “Where’s Hailey?” I haven’t seen her.

“Katherine has her plating hors d’oeuvres.”

I return to the pool. It takes two more trips before all the flyaway items are safely secured. Jake braces the door open for me, his hand above my head, and I could cheer at finally being inside for good. But my waterlogged clothes feel like fifty pounds, and the air-conditioning is on full force.

Goosebumps immediately form on my arms, and I can’t stop trembling. The staff are all gone now. Katherine must have corralled them into the dining room.

Jake’s leather shoes sound squishy as he turns to me. His eyes flit from my head to my feet, his concern apparent as I keep shivering. “Do you have a change of clothes?”

“No, I didn’t pencil in getting soaked on my to-do list today.”

He nods slowly. “All right. I think there might be a spare uniform in the locker room. Follow me.” He walks briskly, and with his long, tall legs, I have to almost jog to keep up.

My phone buzzes, and I see it’s Hailey. I answer quickly. “Hey.” I’m almost out of breath from Jake’s pace.

“Hey,” she says. “Katherine wants to know where you are. She’s freaking out.” Of course she is.

“I’m changing in the locker room,” I say. “I’ll be there when I don’t look like I swam across the Atlantic Ocean.”

“Got it,” Hailey replies. Then adds under her breath, “She’s on a tear. Take your time. I’ll stall.”

I smile and calm my shaking limbs. “Thanks, Hails.”

She says a quick goodbye and hangs up.

In the locker room, Jake opens a cardboard box. “There are some standard blouses and pants in here. You can see if any of them are your size.”

I touch the edge of the box, but my eyes are on him. I try not to stare too hard at the firm valleys and planes of his body. Or the way his slacks sit perfectly low on his masculine waist. He’s gorgeous. I can very clearly see that, and maybe I should kindle little embers of lust that must be lying dormant in me.

He’s not Rocky.

That should be a good thing—the best thing. I push down the strange flip of my stomach.

“What about you?” I ask him. “What are you wearing?”

He leans past my body to unlock a locker. I see a tux inside. “I was going to change anyway,” he tells me.

“That’s lucky.”

He hangs the soaked button-down on the rod. “Preparation isn’t luck.”

“I’ll remember that next time I need to whip out a boarding school motto.” I break my eyes away from his toned biceps to peruse the box. “Let me guess, you were on the row team in college?”

“Polo team.”

Horses. Mallets. Oliver once had to play polo on a job. I’m not as good around animals. I’ve always had a strange feeling that they can sense deception better than humans. And I’m not alone in that theory.

“Thanks for helping with outside, by the way,” Jake says. “I know it wasn’t ideal.”

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” I ask, rummaging through the box. “It’s my job. You could have left me out there alone.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Again, he’s a good guy. And clearly, the opposite of my type.

“Doesn’t it get frustrating doing the right thing all the time?” I ask because I’m genuinely curious. If I’m the devil on his shoulder, then maybe he can be the angel on mine.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we could have said Fuck this clambake and just left all the cushions outside. Forced Katherine to risk her perfect coiled hair.”

“You know, for a split second, it did cross my mind.”

My brows jump. “Jake?”

He laughs. “Settle your excitement, Rebel Without a Cause.”

Okay, I’m smiling. I’m just glad he’s not perfect—the bar to be a good person has lowered in my eyes. It seems more feasible to reach. “I’m just shocked that your polished armor has a chip in it.”

“If you knew me,” Jake says, “you wouldn’t be so surprised.”

If I knew him. Here I thought I had gotten to know him decently well. My mood punctures like a popped balloon.

Then his gaze lingers on me for an extended beat. Tender, almost, and I sense him canvassing the length of me. I can’t tell if he’s checking me out from the outside or the inside, and it puzzles me in a new way.

My cheeks burn while I find a dry blouse in my size, and we both work on undressing. I peek back at him. He slips another glance at me. The silence is weighted and unclear, as if we’re partially shrouded in steam.

Once I fish the buttons of my damp blouse through the fabric slits and Jake begins unzipping his wet slacks, we turn our backs to one another. I can hear him stepping out of his pants, and I toss the blouse on the bench.


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