Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
I hear something break behind me but don’t turn to look. I have a feeling I know who broke it. Or if I had a guess, that would give me a fifty-fifty shot of getting it right.
“Enjoy your evening,” the hostess says and rushes off, I’m guessing, to clean up whatever mess was just made.
“You’re even more stunning in person, Amelia.” Mason pulls my chair out for me and I sit down. His hand runs along my back, making me jump at the unwanted touch.
“Thank you,” I manage to say.
A waitress comes over and takes our drink orders. We fall into polite talk about where we went to college. I glance over my shoulder as Mason rattles on and on about himself. I can already tell he likes to talk about himself. I had a feeling he might be that way from his profile and some of the long-winded messages he sent me. He probably won’t even notice I’m not paying attention to what he’s saying.
My eyes narrow on Wes and Dean, who are half hiding behind menus as the pretty hostess flirts with them. I grit my teeth, hating it. I know I don’t have a claim on them, and it’s not like I have room to be upset. I’m on a freaking date, but I can’t help myself. The idea of other women giving them attention makes me want to storm over there and smack all of them.
Jealousy flows through me. Two can play this game, I think as I turn back to Mason.
Chapter Eight
Wes
The waitress says something and I look up to see she’s leaning over us and trying to get closer. I sit back in my chair and turn my eyes back to Amelia.
“Water,” I say when she won’t leave, and after a second she takes the hint.
Dean keeps trying to hold the menus in front of us so we can hide behind them, but I don’t give a shit if she sees us. We’re here to watch her, and I’m not apologizing for that.
We may have listened through her door when she was talking to her dad to find out she had a date tonight. That might be considered stepping over the line by most people, but to me it’s just good sense. We care about Amelia, and we want to make sure she’s safe at all times. Plus, we want to murder anyone who tries to take her from us, and we need to know where she is in order to do that.
“We’re supposed to be incognito,” Dean whispers, and I roll my eyes.
“She knows we’re here.”
“Shit. Do you think?” he asks, and I want to bang my head on the table.
What the fuck are we doing? Are we really going to sit here and allow our woman to be touched by another man? This isn’t who we are.
“We’ve waited our whole lives for her,” I say, looking at Dean.
There’s silence between us, then I hear Amelia giggle. I turn to look at her and see her touch the guy she’s with. The laugh is fake. I know what she sounds like when she’s happy, and that wasn’t it. She’s putting on a show for us just to make us jealous.
Oh hell no.
I stand up out of my chair so fast it falls over backwards. Dean is up instantly and by my side. I make my way over to the table with nothing but determination and possession in my steps. I won’t sit back and watch this any longer.
When we get there, her date looks up and blinks in shock to see us standing there. “Oh my god, you’re Wes Long and Dean Farmer. Wow, can I get a selfie?” he asks, standing up and getting his phone out of his pocket.
“Amelia is leaving,” I say, holing out my hand and waiting for her to take it.
She opens her mouth to say something, but I shake my head.
“Get up from the table, little one. It’s time to go home.”
Dean walks around behind her and grabs her bag. She looks at him and he gives her a big smile that shows off the dimple I know she loves. She turns her eyes back on me and I nod, letting her know this is okay. But just when I think she’s going to put her hand in mine, she squares her shoulders and turns her eyes back on her date.
“I think I’m going to finish my drink first,” she says, the sass clear in her voice.
“You know these guys? That’s awesome. Can you get me some season tickets?” the guy asks, and I want to knock him on the top of his head.
Having been pushed into a corner, I decide I’m tired of being polite. I lean down so my face is even with hers and wait for her to look at me. It takes a second, but we both know she can’t resist.