Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
I didn’t have the first clue what she found attractive about this guy.
My knees locked as Hale’s palm glided up my thigh. “It’s my experience that too much rigidness leads to breaks. There’s something freeing about giving up control, don’t you think, Rayne?”
His touch nonchalantly traced the seam of my jeans and I inhaled sharply. I looked up at him, casually disguising the fact that he was cupping my crotch under the table.
Uncertainty formed an awkward smile on my face. This was new territory. Also, he was full of crap. Hale was the biggest control freak I knew.
“I think it all depends on the circumstances. Sometimes a little recklessness is fun and sometimes it’s totally inappropriate.” I locked my thighs around his wrist and he chuckled as I shot him a withering look of death.
I was by no means graceful enough to pull off incognito sexy time in public. What was he thinking?
“Paul’s one of the most disciplined people I’ve ever met. Tell them about your schedule,” Elle said.
Hale pinched my crotch through my jeans and I pressed my nails into his skin as a warning. He needed to stop.
He chuckled softly, so only I could hear the sound, then he pulled his hand away. “That’s interesting,” he said to Paul as he casually checked his phone. “Pardon me. I have to answer this.” He typed out a text and discretely slid the device back into his breast pocket.
A moment later my phone buzzed from the abyss of my purse. I looked at Hale suspiciously, but his focus was strictly on Paul as he detailed every mundane facet of his workout routine.
I discretely checked my phone.
I’m going to eat you for dessert.
Hiding a smirk, I stashed the phone back in my bag and sat up straight. Okay then.
Paul was still pontificating like a blowhard about things that did not interest me at all. I tried to care—for Elle’s sake—but something about the guy felt off. He was a know-it-all who hadn’t said two words to me but seemed fully infatuated with himself.
After more than twenty minutes of only Paul talking, I got annoyed. Didn’t he know I was the friend he had to impress?
“So, plant-based,” Hale confirmed. “I’ve read good things about that.”
“You’d be amazed how many athletes are cutting out meat and dairy. Take Arnold Schwarzenegger, for example.”
Elle looked enthralled. I was utterly bored and admiring all the tchotchkes nailed to the walls. Was that really Axl Rose’s guitar?
When Elle finally smiled at me, I lunged for that fragile olive branch, diving into conversation that revolved around something other than juicing and supplements. “Did you look at the email I sent you about the dresses?”
“I did. I love the dark blue.”
Relieved she liked it, my smile grew. The weight on my shoulders was getting lighter. “You always look great in cool tones.”
Sapphire was our accent color, because it reminded me of the ocean and our days on the Lady Parr when there was nothing but cerulean sea and blue skies for miles. That was where I fell in love with Hale, so blue seemed a fitting wedding color.
When the waitress arrived with our cocktails I eagerly accepted my margarita. Hale had ordered a Manhattan for himself, but based on the ambiance I knew he wasn’t going to be happy with the result. This was the kind of place that put maraschino cherries in everything. When he sipped I caught his subtle wince at the alcohol quality.
Paul looked disappointed. “Wait a minute.”
The waitress paused and looked at him expectantly. “Did you change your mind about cocktails?”
“No. This water has ice in it. Can you please bring us room temperature water, no ice?”
“Of course.” She took the glasses away.
Paul gave a tight-lipped smile that screamed intolerance. “Cold beverages shock the liver. It’s an American habit that’s not doing us any favors.”
“I come from the school of beliefs that alcohol kills everything,” I joked, licking the salt off the rim of my margarita. “Germs and stuff.”
“That’s not true.”
I was going at my cocktail like a horse on a salt-lick. Did this guy honestly think I looked like someone concerned with scientific fact at the moment?
He grimaced at my delightfully toxic beverage. “If you knew how much sodium and sugar was in that margarita you might feel differently.”
“Oh, Paul,” I teased with feigned patience. “Let’s not spoil the things that bring me joy, okay?”
“That’s the problem with the health in this country. No one wants to do anything until it’s too late.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but my mind blanked. The fading sunlight coming from a nearby window glinted and my attention snagged on the enormous fake diamond in Paul’s ear.
Wow. P Diddy called and he wants his rock back…
I had to force myself to look away.
Thankfully, Hale saved me. “So, Paul, how long have you worked at the gym?”