Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
I frown. “Huh?”
“My sister. She left early this morning so she wouldn’t run into you, and she won’t come home until she knows you’re gone.” He pauses knowingly. “If you were thinking of waiting for her.”
Damn. Somehow, it’s even colder coming from this kid. “She told you that?”
He shrugs. “You guys fighting?”
“I’m not.” I wish I could make her understand she can have me however she wants. Whatever she needs from me, I’ll do it.
“You know, I always kind of looked up to you when I was a kid.”
Craig’s words catch me off guard. “Oh yeah?”
“Not so much anymore.”
Ouch. The kid’s full of bullets today. “This unfiltered honesty thing gets a lot less cute when you’re old enough to get your ass kicked,” I remind him.
He has the decency to blush. “Sorry.”
“So what’s changed, huh?”
He considers the question for several seconds. Then, with a look of pity that would knock other men out cold, he says, “The bad boy thing gets old.”
Well, shit.
It’s not every day I get dressed down by a Boy Scout.
Later that night, I hit up one of the usual haunts for a few drinks with Tate, Wyatt, and the guys. After a couple rounds of beers, we drift over to the pool tables and indulge in our favorite pastime: hustling tourists. Eventually they catch on to us, so we start playing for fun. We split into teams, me and Tate versus Wyatt and Jordy. The cash we’d just squeezed out of the tourists sits in a neat pile at the corner of the table. Winners take all.
From the next table, a cute blonde in a pink sundress watches me, while her boyfriend, I presume, is completely oblivious as he stalks around the table sinking shots. I might have been able to work up some enthusiasm about the scenario if Genevieve West didn’t have my head in a vise. But since she came back to the Bay, I’ve had zero interest in hookups with other women. Just one.
“Coop coming?” Tate asks me, shoving the pool cue in my hand for my turn.
I line up my shot and scuff the felt. “Doubt it.”
“The wifey doesn’t let him out anymore,” Wyatt cracks as he easily follows up my scratch by nailing a bank shot.
He’s not entirely wrong. Though it isn’t necessarily Mackenzie keeping Cooper from drinks with the boys these days, so much as the two of them mind-melding into a single entity that prefers its own company to that of others. They’re happy and stupid in their gooey love bubble. For a while, it was a relief when Mac managed to mellow Cooper out, but now their bubble is absorbing the whole house, and it’s not so fun anymore.
Or hell, maybe I’m just jealous. Maybe I’m resentful that Coop throws his perfect relationship in my face but does everything in his power to keep me miserable. There was no good reason he and Mac should have gotten together, much less stayed together. But they ignored all of us and made it work. Why can’t I have that?
“You’re up.” Tate smacks me with the cue again.
“Nah, I’m tapping out.” I glance toward our table. “Yo, Donovan, take my place.”
“Aww, come on.” Wyatt taunts me from across the table. “Let me embarrass your ass fair and square.”
I reach for my beer and find it empty. “I’m gonna hit the head and then grab the next round.”
“Well, you heard the man,” Wyatt says, slapping our buddy Donovan on the back. “It’s your turn to shoot.”
I pay a quick visit to the restroom, drying my hands with a paper towel that I drop in the trash can by the door. I step into the corridor at the same time someone exits the ladies’ room. None other than Lauren, Wyatt’s ex.
“Evan. Hey,” the brunette says.
“Ah, hey.” I dutifully lean in for the hug she offers. She and Wyatt might be broken up, but Ren’s been part of our crew for years. I can’t very well shun her, and I doubt Wyatt would want me to. “How’ve you been, Ren?”
“Pretty good. Been spending a lot of time in Charleston with my sister.” She lifts a slender arm to drag her hand through her glossy hair, drawing my attention to the full sleeve of tats on her skin. Most of the art is courtesy of Wyatt, who did a lot of my own recent ink. “How about you?” she asks.
“Nothing new to report,” I say lightly.
“I heard Gen’s back in town. We’re supposed to grab lunch sometime next week.”
“Yeah. She sure is back.”
A dimple appears at the left side of Ren’s mouth. Her eyes twinkle with amusement. “I’m guessing she didn’t come running right back into your arms?”
I smile faintly. “Good guess.”
Pensive for a beat, Ren moistens her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. “We should grab lunch one of these days too. Or better yet, a drink.”