Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 138904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
“You were in fear of your life,” she reminded him drily, and he laughed. He looked a lot more relaxed than he had that day. And Vicki could appreciate the fact that he was quite good-looking and genuinely likable.
She wished she found him half as attractive as she did Ty. Her life would be so much easier.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, and she smiled. It was great to be in such uncomplicated male company for a change.
“I’d like that.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Don’t you ever go out, mate?” Chance asked when Ty opened his front door early Saturday evening. Ty had been hoping it would be Vicki and forced back the swell of disappointment when he found Chance standing on his doorstep instead. The man was wearing a gold and green rugby jersey, and holding a six pack of Heineken.
“You’re off duty already?” Ty asked, ignoring Chance’s question and stepping aside to let him enter.
“Yeah. Vicki’s at a pub with Hugh and some of her mates.” Chance sank onto Ty’s sofa and propped his feet up on the expensive coffee table.
Hugh’s security team had seniority if both siblings were at the same event.
“Vicki was happily chatting with some guy when I left.” Chance popped the tab on a beer and missed Ty’s knee jerk reaction at that bit of news.
What fucking guy?
Ty shoved Chance’s feet off his table and grabbed a beer, before seating himself in the easy chair across from the man to glare at him.
“You left her with some stranger?”
“Ease up, wanker. She was surrounded by friends. And he wasn’t a stranger. She seemed to know him. He has a ridiculous name…Eddy? Neddy?”
“Teddy?” That asshole? What was he doing back in the picture?
“Aah, he’s the bloke she was meeting for lunch the day after your birthday, right?” Chance remembered with a snap of his fingers. “I thought that ended badly.”
“He left her sitting in the middle of the garden by herself,” Ty said, glowering into his beer can.
“Well, she was smiling at him when I left. And he bought her a drink. So maybe she’s forgiven him.”
The hell she had!
“She hasn’t,” he stated authoritatively.
Ty wished that just saying the words would make them true, but he knew Vicki hadn’t even been angry with the man. She’d been sweet, and understanding, and fucking forgiving. “She’s just too damned polite to give him the cold shoulder.”
“Uh-huh. Fine.” Chance dismissed his words with a shrug. “Come on, man, why are we talking about work?”
Ty caught himself before he replied, It’s not work. It’s Vicki.
Shit. What the hell was wrong with him?
Chance was still speaking, “My plan is to have a few drinks here, and then we’re going to a pub to watch the rugby. Oz vs England. I need you to have my back. I’ve already received some serious side-eye on the way over here because of my Wallabies jersey. Odds are high I’ll be getting my arse kicked when we win.”
Chance was a popular guy and didn’t lack friends. Ty didn’t understand why the Australian kept coming around to his place like this.
“Why do you hang out with me?” he surprised himself by asking. Then—when Chance pinned him with a speculative look—felt embarrassed for asking the question.
“We’re friends,” Chance said, taking another pull from his beer.
“I’m not…” His voice trailed off as he found himself at a loss as to how to finish that sentence.
“Fun? A barrel of laughs? Mr. Personality?” Chance helpfully supplied. “Don’t you have any crisps or peanuts, man?”
Ty exhaled noisily. He got to his feet, and rummaged around his kitchen cabinets until he found an unopened bag of pretzels. He returned to the living room and tossed the bag in Chance’s lap.
“I hang out with you, wanker,” Chance said after he’d shoveled a handful of pretzels into his mouth, and washed it down with beer. “Because you’re my friend and I like you. Do you want go into further detail? Should we explore our feelings? Maybe write poems about what our friendship means to us? Or can we have our beer in peace, go out, and watch the game?”
Ty’s lips twitched. He shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. Don’t hog the pretzels, asshole.”
Ty didn’t know how the hell it had happened—especially with him actively trying to remain aloof from people—but somehow—over the past year—Chance had gone from just a colleague to a valued friend. And Ty found that he was okay with that. He appreciated Chance’s garrulous personality, liked listening to him rant about sport, or politics, or the job. Chance didn’t expect anything from him and was happy to just enjoy Ty’s mostly silent company.
While Ty—who usually spent his free time working out in the company gym, running, or aimlessly wandering around the city taking photographs of lonely people, abandoned objects, and derelict buildings—found that he enjoyed having a friend to shoot the breeze with again. It had been too long since he’d spent his free time in human company, hanging out, drinking beers, and talking about nothing in particular.