Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
“I’m counting on you winning.”
He unlocks the car with a beep. “Get in the car.”
“Someone’s eager,” I tease. “I have somewhere to be, honey. You’ll have to beach-fuck me another time.”
“Liv.” He pushes off the car and walks around it. “I’m not going to fuck you somewhere right after you challenge me to. I have plans, remember?”
“What am I, penciled in for nine p.m. tonight or something?” I sit next to him in the car.
“Do you want to be?” He glances at me as we pull out of the parking lot.
“Do you have time to fit me in? I mean, I’d hate to mess up your sex plan with a flippant comment.”
“I can squeeze you in, babe. I’ve left a few slots in my diary.”
“Oh, that’s so kind of you. As long as it won’t affect your plan.”
He shrugs. “Plans can be changed.”
I smirk. “So the beach thing?”
“Plans can be changed, but they’re more fun when they’re surprises.” He laughs.
“Which translates to?”
“I’ll fuck you on a beach when I want to, not when you ask me to.”
“You could have just said that in the first place, you know?” I poke his thigh. “Instead of all the plan shit that was a waste of my breath.”
Tyler laughs, stopping outside the bar. He shifts in his seat to face me and reaches a hand out. He curls his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me into him. “Hey, feisty bitch, you’re more than penciled in. You’re written in in fucking permanent marker. Every night.”
“Yeah? How long for?”
“Only ‘til the end of the year. My diary doesn’t go past that yet.” He grins and pulls me in for a kiss. He hums against my mouth, the gentle sound vibrating his lips against mine. “Now go make up a menu. I expect a Blow Job as soon as possible.”
I drop my hand to his pants and brush my thumb over the material covering his half-erect cock. “And I expect a Screaming Orgasm. Pencil that in.”
I leave the car after one final kiss. He laughs yet again, a sound I’m certain I’ll never tire of, and I wave just before stepping inside the bar.
Now, the bar is a totally different place than it was the last time I was here. Downstairs is painted, the bar is completely erected, and all the necessary furniture is on the dance floor, still covered in plastic. The bar is covered with a plastic sheet, too, and I guess that’s to protect it from the final building work going on up in the VIP section.
At least I don’t have to wear one of those fucking hard hats any more.
“Is upstairs almost done?” I grab Will on my way to the bar, where my best friend is sitting.
He nods. “Yes, ma’am. They’re just building the bar and laying the final tiles on the floor. Then we’ll be able to get it decorated and the lights fixed up. That’s what we’re doing right now.”
“Great!” I smile and head for the bar.
“You’re late,” Dayton says, teasing.
“Blame your future cousin-in-law. He started with Blow Jobs, so naturally I had to respond with a Screaming Orgasm.”
She stares at me for a moment. “Cocktail innuendos. I would have loved to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.”
I can’t help but grin as I sit down on the plastic-covered stool and put my purse on the plastic-covered bar. “It’s like a warehouse in here,” I mutter, grabbing a pen from the bar and clicking it.
Day opens a notebook and hands it to me. “Lights and restrooms today. Then they’ll start with furniture and getting all the little things out of the way.”
“I guess they got a few too many extra men in.” I laugh.
“Probably. So, aside from a Screaming Orgasm and a Blow Job, what are you thinking?” she grins devilishly. “Slippery Nipple? Silk Panty Martini? Climax?” Her eyes glitter with laughter.
“This is a high-end establishment.” I sit up straight. “But I really, really want to put them on just for giggles.”
Day snatches the pen and writes them all on the paper. “Do menu sections. These can be in the section titled ‘Final Night of Freedom.’”
Oh my god. “Put All Night Long in there, too.”
She scribbles it down. “Classics?”
“Mojito, margarita, Bloody Mary, daiquiri, martini—all versions—whisky sour, cosmopolitan, mimosa, and Bucks Fizz.”
She blinks at me. “Wow. Why are we writing a menu again, Ms. I Know My Cocktails?”
“So everyone else knows them, too. Duh.” I take the pen from her. “Do you have another notebook? I need to write down the ingredients so I don’t get swamped later.”
She hands me another notebook and I flip to the first page. Using the other list, I write down all the ingredients so I can put the order through. We shoot more cocktail ideas and section titles around as I write, switching between the two lists. When we have a great basic menu, I add all the beers, lagers, and wines to the order sheet.