Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 116760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Corbin took a deep breath in. “He’s your friend?”
She narrowed her gaze. “Yes. Why do you say it like that? Why couldn’t he be my friend?”
“Yeah,” Shakespeare rumbled. “Why couldn’t I be her friend?”
Shit.
He glanced over at Hayes, who was watching Shakespeare warily. But he shrugged at Corbin, giving him a wry look.
Fuck.
He’d overreacted.
“Uh, one moment,” he said awkwardly to Shakespeare. Then he turned fully to her, crowding her slightly back against the wall. “He’s your friend?”
She scowled up at him, crossing her arms over her chest. Damn, even when she was angry she was adorable.
“Yes, Corbin. Shakespeare is my friend.”
“You could have warned me.”
“Warned you? We’re going to a pub where I have a number of friends. Do you really need me to tell you every time I want to hug one of them?”
“When they’re the size of a bus and look like they wrestled alligators in a former life . . . kind of, yeah.”
She shook her head.
Yeah, he got it.
He’d really overreacted.
“Sorry?” he said.
“You shouldn’t say that to me. You should say it to Shakespeare. You’ve probably hurt his feelings.”
“He has feelings?”
She slapped his chest with her hand, and he frowned as she winced. “Of course he has feelings. Everyone has feelings. Well, unless they’re a psychopath, I guess.”
“I’m not,” Shakespeare said dryly. “And I have feelings.”
“Do you mind?” Corbin said. “We’re having a private conversation.”
“We’re not exactly in a cone of silence,” she grumbled at him.
“No, you’re standing a few feet away from us in a room with good acoustics. Now, do I get to have a hug from my best girl, or are you gonna let your jealousy get the best of you again?” Shakespeare asked.
Corbin whirled toward the big guy. “I’m her bodyguard. I wasn’t jealous of you.”
“Uh-huh. All the boyfriends and husbands are jealous of Shakespeare.” He smiled his creepy smile again. “Come here, Bebe-girl.” He gestured at her.
Bebe threw herself at him.
Shakespeare was wrong.
He wasn’t jealous.
He was possessive. And he wasn’t certain if that was worse.
19
After a rocky entrance to the club, she’d been worried about how Corbin and Hayes would behave once they got downstairs.
She guessed this place was a bit strange to newcomers. There was no natural light. Not that anyone in here cared. You had to walk down a flight of stairs to get to Callahan’s. It was actually a fairly large space once you got down there. A bar ran along one wall. To the side were doors that led to the bathrooms. Behind the bar were private staff areas. It was all kind of simple. The walls were a rough brick and had a few paintings—all of them were of the English countryside. Tables and chairs were set around in a seemingly random pattern.
Above them, lights flickered and sometimes went out.
It smelled a bit musty—like spilled beer and body odor. But it wasn’t overpowering or enough to turn you off. It was just part of the experience.
Or that’s how she viewed it.
“Come on, I’ll get Churchill to make you your favorite,” Shakespeare said as he pushed through the crowd of people. She tried to follow him, but Corbin wrapped an arm around her waist.
Okay. She was getting tired of all the touching.
Uh-huh, sure you are.
Or are you tired of the fact that he only touches you to move you places or after you’ve had a nightmare or fallen from your skateboard?
Because you want him to touch you in other ways.
Like when you nearly kissed . . .
Time to stop.
“What’s wrong now?” she asked.
“Hayes will go in front and I’ll go behind you. No wandering off without us.”
Oh. Right.
With a nod, she followed Hayes as he made his way to the bar. Shakespeare was standing behind the bar next to Churchill, a tall and handsome man with a moustache and trimmed beard. His muscular arms were crossed loosely over his chest as he watched her carefully.
She gave him a nod to let him know she was all good.
These guys were her friends. As well as most of the other people who worked here. And some of the regulars.
This is where she came when she was feeling down and life was getting to her. Of course, that wasn’t always possible since she couldn’t spend all her time down here.
That’s when other adventures came in, like skydiving.
“That’s Churchill?” Corbin asked, standing close behind her.
His breath tickled the back of her neck.
Whoa.
A shiver of delight ran through her body.
Now even his breath was turning her on? What was wrong with her?
“He looks nothing like Churchill,” he commented.
“He’s not supposed to,” she managed to say. Once she unscrambled her brain. “Everyone here uses an alias. They all chose famous British people. Celebrities or playwrights or politicians or sports people. Things like that. The other bartender’s name is Darwin.” She waved at the older guy down the other end. He nodded back at her, watching Corbin with serious eyes.