Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 91501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
I look like a horse’s ass and feel like one too.
While the new arrivals flock around my brother and his buddies, I hang back, axe and Babe the Blue Ox hanging at my sides, watching everyone laugh and talk and flirt.
Lift my wrist and check the time on my smart watch.
Too early to cut out. The evening has barely gotten started—I’d look like a jerk for going home.
One more weekend, two more parties, and then I won’t have to dash around like a maniac for this wedding.
Next up: Rehearsal dinner.
Wedding.
Then I should be—
Shit, the gift-opening brunch thing the day after.
There is no escaping this lovey-dovey romantic crap.
And look at those two, kissing in front of everyone. Hollis has her arms around my brother’s neck and his hands are cupping her ass. She looks like a classy version of a hooker, kind of.
Uptown, but cheap.
I mean—no one looks classy in a Halloween wig. Looks like it was just taken out of the bag and combed, tons of staticky stray hairs I can see flying from here.
Her bridesmaids and friends aren’t faring any better in their getups and I wonder why women insist on behaving this way for their stag parties. Are they trying to attract attention? Because if they are, it’s not working, even though every man in this place is watching.
I frown.
Why didn’t they rent a bus or a stripper like most bachelorette parties do? This wanting to hang out with the groom and his groomsmen bullshit cannot be normal behavior, can it?
Then again, what do I know about women?
I set the axe on the table because it looks like the game is at a standstill. Now that the girls are here, laughter rings out at the next throwing cage, one of the bridesmaids or best friends or whoever she is giggling as she attempts a shot at hitting the bullseye.
The axe thumps to the ground loudly, but everyone still cheers.
Why would everyone cheer? She’s a loser.
That axe didn’t even come close to hitting the target! Irritated, I grab the bottle of beer in front of me and chug, second-guessing immediately after if the beer is even mine.
Shit.
I gag, literally, and set it down, glancing around to see if anyone saw.
No one is paying me the least bit of attention, all eyes and ears on two people, the bride and groom, and aren’t they adorable?
I observe as everyone watches them, standing off to the side as usual, alert and perceptive, two of my greatest qualities—other than persistence and physical strength. I like to think nothing escapes my notice; five long years on the football field have assured that.
Five years being paid shitloads of dollars guarantees nothing gets past me. Nothing intimidates me.
I feel a set of eyes watching me, lifting my gaze to find one of the gaggle staring. Like the others, she’s dressed all in pink, though her dress is less revealing. Light pink wig, light pink dress.
No idea what she looks like, not covered in all that fuss. It could be Hollis’s sister Fiona or her best friend Madison sizing me up for all I know—and I’m not interested in either of those women.
I’ve already been down that road with both of them, the shameless flirting on their part, the awkward letdown on mine. Nope, don’t think it’s either of them. They know better than to waste their time.
Must be one of the other minions.
She has a small smile on her face—one she probably thinks I can’t see from my spot at this table, over fifteen feet away—as her eyes rake over my cargo pants and lumberjack shirt. The stuffed animal dangling from my side pocket by the horn.
I’m used to people staring at me; this is nothing new.
I’m not a fucking idiot; I know I’m good-looking. The thing is, I’m just not interested in a woman who’s only out for my money. My looks may fade and my bank account might be depleted. So if someone is going to chase me solely for those two things alone, they can kiss my tight end.
I smirk at my own joke. Tight end, get it?
If this broad thinks I look stupid, that’s her problem, not mine. I’m dressed like this for my brother—not for the judgy bridal party. And when she finally notices me noticing her, she jerks her gaze away, hiding behind the shield of that powder pink hair.
Four
Chandler
The Quickie.
Description: A sleek, tantalizing partner for those of us who aren’t messing around with foreplay. Silicone coated, water safe. Wash thoroughly with Love Care Cleaning Solution after each use, store in enclosed case. Batteries not included.
For those of us who aren’t messing around with foreplay? What does that even mean? Don’t some people use toys when they’re actually having sex? I haven’t ever done so, but I know enough to have gleaned a bit of knowledge.