Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Her eyes dragged up to my face. Shock gave way to anger.
“You have some nerve, sir,” she whisper-shouted.
“You have some lips,” I said by way of explanation. If God did exist, I was going to meet the second pair in her body too.
“Put that thing away. It looks like it’s about to stab me in the eye,” she complained, and I managed not to laugh. Just barely.
“No one told you to sit down.”
“No one told you to sexually harass me.”
“Excuse me? If anyone should be crying under the showerhead while hugging their knees, it should be me. You mentally licked my chest just a few hours ago,” I reminded her. “When we were in your apartment.”
“I did not,” she hissed, her cheeks enflamed.
“Did too.”
“Again, I can’t believe you’re pushing forty.”
“You think once you hit a certain age you start talking like Morgan Freeman?” I frowned, fed up with this line. “Thirty-seven-year-olds still say ‘fuck’ and make dick jokes and play Xbox and prefer Cheetos and soda over broccoli and chicken and still think Stranger Things is better than documentaries about migrating ants.”
“But they don’t say ‘doodie calls.’”
“Yes, they do. And what’s more—you’re about to legally bind yourself to someone who just might tattoo the phrase on his ass.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Her jaw ticked, and I knew she actually thought I was capable of it.
I smiled winningly. “Wouldn’t I, now? May I remind you, I am marrying a complete stranger because of a pissing contest with my boss.”
“Are you guys okay?” Ready to Kiss Me if My Fiancée Wouldn’t Lady cut into our argument. “You seem . . . tense.”
“Brilliant.” Duffy offered a fake, icy smile.
Brilliant, my ass.
She couldn’t wait to get back home so she could gargle some bleach.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
RIGGS
Emmett: . . .
Riggs: It’s the middle of the night, Emmett. Don’t you have women to stalk?
Emmett: Send me a picture of you two together.
Riggs: My dick might be big enough to be its own entity, but the royal “we” is unnecessary.
Emmett: You and Desiree, smart ass.
Riggs: With or without clothes?
Emmett: . . .
Riggs: Pervert.
I woke up to the sound of the world ending.
There was screaming, crying, pounding, and doors slamming. If I had to guess, I’d say Duffy had decided to wrestle a bear in the living room. And was losing.
Cracking one eye open from my vantage point on the couch—I’d somehow gotten used to sleeping with my feet on the coffee table—I spotted my fiancée weeping over the sink, FaceTiming someone on her phone.
“Of course it’s the end of the world, Kieran!”
Shit. The apocalypse. I wondered if I had time for a quick booty call. It seemed wrong to depart without a last hurrah. Especially after the dry spell I’d had since fate chained me into a shoebox apartment with a snotty Brit who possessed the sex drive of a Coke can. My so-called Scandinavian friend I told Poppins about on her last day at work was a figment of my imagination. Designed to poke at her prudish senses.
“No, it’s not. If anything, it’s a good thing,” her brother piped up.
“How’s that a good thing?”
“Maybe your tosser ex-boyfriend will see this and finally get his head out of his arse.”
Poppins gulped, proceeding to wail even harder. “BJ! I hadn’t even thought of that. How could him finding out be a good thing?”
“Maybe he’d stop taking you for granted.”
Kieran was obviously more street smart than his twin.
“He doesn’t take me for granted.” Duffy slammed more cabinet doors, bulldozing around the kitchen with a towel and Lysol. She was stress cleaning. Last time she did that, the apartment smelled like someone was trying to cover up a murder. “You know, I’m sick and tired of everyone judging him. Give the man some grace.”
“In BJ’s case, he’d shag Grace too,” Kieran deadpanned.
I barked out a laugh.
She turned toward me, her eyes narrowing on me, like she was ready to shoot me with the Lysol.
“Ah. The arsehole is awake. I’ll call you later.”
Kieran perked. “Can I speak to him?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Don’t kill him, darkling. I’m getting rather attached here.”
“No promises. Bye.” She ended the call, then pinned me with red, bloodshot eyes. “I’m going to kill you.”
I sat up straight, digging the bases of my palms into my eye sockets.
“Can we fuck first?” I asked gruffly. “I’d like to go with a bang. All puns intended.”
“No.”
“Thought I’d try. What did I do this time?” I reached for my pants. I only slept in my briefs, which meant Poppins normally spent her mornings bumping into furniture while trying desperately to stare at the floor and avoid getting an eyeful of my morning wood.
Her thumbs flew across her phone screen now. She turned the device around and thrust it in my face, almost breaking my nose in the process. “This happened.”
I was looking at a YouTube video of our engagement scene in the subway from the day before. The resolution was crappy, but our faces were recognizable to anyone who knew us. The caption of the video read: Surprise Proposal on NYC Subway!