Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Rory choked, wanting to tell her it wasn’t as shallow as she was making it sound, but it totally was, and he was too surprised at the fact that she knew about it to lie. “Seriously, Jen, how the fuck?”
She smirked. “I’ve known you all of my life, dear. I’m friends with people who knew you in college, and you were never as quiet a talker as you thought you were when I worked at Finn’s slinging beers. Also, my brother’s been worried about you and David since his wedding. He talked to Jeremy and…”
“Jeremy talks to you and Tasha about everything.” Owen must have shared Rory’s feelings with his new husband. “I should have known.”
Forget Sol the Elder, this entire situation was Owen Finn’s fault.
Owen had married Jeremy Porter the Christmas Eve before last. The two men lived together in a beautiful house on the lake. They had a dog, a cabin they’d fixed up for romantic getaways, and they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. It was a miracle they’d made it through their vows, and their one-year anniversary hadn’t been any better. Owen—the heterosexual kinky sex addict—had been keeping one hell of a secret when it came to his feelings for the artistic Porter.
Rory let the family think he wasn’t as stunned as they were because it conveniently proved his ongoing assertion that no man was one hundred percent straight given the right set of circumstances.
Who Owen had finally switched teams for was what fucked with Rory’s head. His high school buddy. His best friend. Someone who knew how thick his black book actually was and how spoiled and arrogant and stubborn Owen could be and wanted him anyway. Loved him anyway.
That was a fucking relationship unicorn.
It had gotten under his skin in a big way, reminding him of things he hadn’t let himself think about for years. Things he’d wanted. And then Owen had basically advised him to go for it, which must have been rattling around in his subconscious during the wedding reception, because man, had he ever.
That bad decision had fucked everything up for Rory, initiating what would forever be known as the Mistletoe Meltdown.
That’s what his family had been calling the episode of his personal reality show where he’d stuck his tongue down his best friend’s throat in front of everyone to prove a stupid point, and nearly lost him in the process.
“So we know the who.” Trick was like a dog with a bone, narrowing his eyes as Rory grimaced before swallowing another bite of lava eggs. “The Italian horn dog and the cutie next door who had all the women pinching his cheeks before Rory sent him into a full-on gay freak out. But that was a while ago. What happened tonight that would have pretty boy getting so drunk he shows up on our doorstep?”
Declan scratched his chin thoughtfully. “It has to be big. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rory fazed by anything.”
“Then you don’t remember his reaction to that kiss,” Jen informed him knowingly. “Trust me, Rory was fazed. He’s still fazed.”
Another truth bomb from Scary Spice. What was it now? Fourteen months later? All this time and just thinking about David’s lips, his tongue…the hot, hungry sounds he was making before Rory pulled away… It still made him crazy.
“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes, refusing to admit the truth. “The good professor was too busy sucking up to your folks to notice me. That’s why he hosted the wedding and volunteered to keep the kids at your place when Seamus was in Ireland. It’s all a part of the continuing campaign to distract my aunt from worrying about her daughter living in sin with two dirty old men.”
Trick guffawed but Jen shushed him. “He’s teasing, Declan, you know Mom’s warmed up to you. And before you let him distract you, don’t forget Rory helped us babysit when we had to go to that faculty mixer.”
Declan was still scowling. “You mean the night he scared Seamus’ kids with stories of evil fairies and banshees and convinced them to superglue Lucky Charms marshmallows to the doors to protect them while they slept?”
Rory smiled fondly at the memory. “It worked. They all slept great,” he reminded them. “Even Wes. Anyway, I was just trying to distract them while their father was getting his freak on with your lusty new neighbor. Speaking of, do you know those two have clothes and lube hidden in every wing of their full house? I hear they keep getting caught with their pants down.”
Jealousy is for losers, dumbass.
“Let’s stay on track.” Trick poured a cup of coffee and passed it to Declan with an unconsciously seductive smile. “What kind of activity could David and Rig be up to that would send Rory into a bottle instead of someone’s bed?”