Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 31869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
“I know your late-night text messages equate to booty calls, but I’m a happily married woman.” I stared pointedly at him. But also, I smiled. “Sean Phillips and Quinn Bailey decided it was the perfect time to let me know that the power was back on in New York.”
“Hold the fucking phone,” Jude remarked. “Did you just say that Sean Phillips and Quinn Bailey, one of the greatest wide receiver and quarterback combos in the league, are texting you?”
“A hazard of my job, I guess.”
“Hazard?” he repeated. “More like, a fucking perk. This is Quinn fucking Bailey and Sean fucking Phillips we’re talking about here.”
My mouth curls up at his giddiness. It’s so innocent and pure, and I deeply consider making fun of it. After all, what else are siblings for? “Are you fangirling right now?”
He nodded with a smirk, unabashedly proud of his enthusiasm. “Most definitely.”
“Aw, is my wittle Jude excited about the big men with fancy shoulder pads?”
Jude’s good nature was almost impenetrable, though. Teasing, taunting, ribbing—it all rolled right off his back. It was probably why he was secretly the favorite sibling of all of us.
“Hell yes. I’d wear a dress and heels to the games if I thought it’d catch those guys’ attention.”
I smile. “Well, I’m not sure if you know this, but Sean Phillips is actually Cassie’s brother, so cross-dressing may be unnecessary. Unless, you know, you really want to.”
“No shit?”
I nodded. “It’s a fact.”
“Damn, you and Wes have friends in all sorts of high places. Garth Brooks would be fucking shocked.”
I laughed. “Trust me, it’s more Wes than me.”
He scoffed. “Win, you’re the physician for the fucking New York Mavericks—it’s both of you.”
“Like you should talk,” I retorted and nudged him with my elbow. “You’re the nightclub king of New York. Pretty sure you spend most of your weekends schmoozing it up with celebrity VIPs.”
“Hazard of the job,” he repeated my earlier words, and I laughed.
“Even the supermodels?”
“Oh yeah. They’re the biggest hazards of all,” he deadpanned, and I elbowed him again.
“You’re so full of shit, and you know it.”
Jude laughed and took a swig of his beer, shaking a finger at me as he swallowed. “No, really. They’re trouble.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Fun, but trouble.”
I rolled my eyes. “So, now you know why I’m up, but why are you up?”
“Because my body, albeit Greek god-esque in nature, is on nightclub time.”
“Greek god-esque,” I muttered. “Could you be any more full of yourself?”
“What?” His smile reeked of confidence. “I’m just speaking the truth.”
Unfortunately, he was speaking the truth. Jude was perfectly fit and muscular in all the right places that most women lost their minds over. Which was a truly bad combination when it came to a man who had player ways like my charming-as-hell brother.
A comfortable silence filled the air, and the two of us just sat in our chairs, looking out toward the lake and watching the way the moon glowed off the water.
Tomorrow, we would all head back home to New York, and I found myself recounting the week’s events. From the power outages back in the city to the last-minute trip to the lake house to my brothers and our friends showing up unexpectedly, it had been one hell of a week.
Lots of ups and some downs, but mostly just a lot of fun.
And I couldn’t deny that I was heading back to New York with a huge weight of uncertainty lifted off my shoulders.
Two nights ago, I was able to tell Wes how I was really feeling about the whole kids and pregnancy thing. All of my fears and concerns and confusion. And that conversation led to us both deciding that we were happy with the way things were. We were happy with our little family, and it was okay that we weren’t going to have any more kids.
And my husband, while sometimes broody on the outside, showed just how much of a romantic he was deep down. The memories of the dance we’d shared the other night would be forever etched on my heart.
I would never forget the song he chose to play that night—“Red, White, & You.”
I would never forget the way he held me and pressed sweet kisses to my lips.
And I would never forget how his voice sounded as he sang the lyrics into my ear.
Man, falling in love with Wes Lancaster is certainly one of the best things that has ever happened to me.
The mere thought of that spurred a memory in my mind, and I turned to look at my brother. “The other day, before we ended up in that food fight, you were just bullshitting about the whole never falling in love thing, right?”
He tilted his head to the side. “Why would I bullshit about something like that?”
“So, you weren’t?” I asked, and he shook his head.