Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“What do you mean?”
“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Rush asked, his gaze flitting up and down from my chest to my eyes. “You could have any guy on their knees for you in the bar bathroom within twenty minutes. Not that I’m condoning bar hookups in the brewery.”
I took another sip of my drink, enjoying the smooth burn. “Is this why you’re successful? Because you know how to butter people up? Or does your pretty face do all the work for you?”
One of his dimples appeared as he started to smile. “That might be flirting. Also might be fighting words, too, but sometimes it can be both.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I said, trying to bite back a smile.
“And to answer your question, no,” he said, focusing on finishing the citrus cocktail below him with a thin corkscrew twist of lemon peel. “I’m successful because I work hard and get lucky. I’m buttering you up because you’re hotter than hell and you should know it.”
Oh no.
Oh, fuck no.
It was already going to be hard enough not to develop a crush on him again. But now, for some unknown reason, he was turning his big ol’ spotlight of charm right onto me, just because he could.
And that was going to make it about ten times harder not to want what I definitely couldn’t have.
Rush gave me another glance from under his lashes before walking off to deliver the cocktail to another customer. My whole body suddenly felt like it was overheating, and I tugged off my flannel, debating leaving the bar altogether and taking a nice, refreshing walk outside.
Nathan came walking back over and plopped down in the seat next to mine. “Find anyone you want to bring home yet?”
Yes.
And he happens to be your lifelong best friend.
“Not yet,” I said, shifting on my barstool. “Let’s just have a good time tonight, okay?”
“I have two promises for you guys tonight,” Rush said as he came gliding right back over. He was one of those bartenders that seemed like he could occupy the whole back of the bar all at the same time, being everywhere at once, always on top of every customer’s needs. “Promise one: I’m going to absolutely obliterate you both in Skee-Ball. And promise two: Shawn, I’m going to find you someone to fuck.”
4
RUSH
Nathan’s little brother might have grown up hot, but he was a sneaky bastard when it came to Skee-Ball.
“You moved over to the side of the lane,” I called out to him after we’d been playing for twenty minutes. “Immediate Skee-Ball disqualification.”
“I absolutely did not,” Shawn protested, his eyes wide. “I moved an inch to the side, but I was still well behind the machine.”
“Bullshit. Absolute bullshit,” I said. I was trying to act mad, but I was already starting to laugh as I yelled at him.
It was late enough that almost all of the bar customers had filtered out. Even Nathan had gone home about an hour ago, after I’d seen him start to get droopy at the bar and called him a cab. The last people in here were me, Shawn, a couple of my bartenders, and a group of college-age guys huddled around their phones watching videos in a booth.
Now that it was just us, I didn’t have to feel as guilty taking in the eye candy that was Shawn Wood. His chestnut eyes and hair. The confident way he moved his body now, after years of on-the-job training. He was the kind of guy who was scorching hot, but he didn’t know it because of some old insecurities left over from high school.
Tantalizing. And definitely off-limits. My cock hardened as I watched Shawn throw another ball, this time in good form. His shirt clung to his body in all the right places. I’d told him I’d help him find someone to fuck, but I was already jealous of whatever guy was going to get to put their fingers through his hair, look him in the eye, and tell him how fucking perfect he was right as he came.
Down, boy. Forget about it.
This is Nathan’s younger brother, not a new conquest.
I focused back on the Skee-Ball, hoping my cock would behave. Someone had called me a “ravenous, horny animal” back in California a couple of months ago, and that idea floated through my head now. But what was I supposed to do when someone like Shawn was right here in front of me?
We kept going in on the Chicken Cock whiskey bottle, slowly draining it as the night went on. We’d gone round after round in Skee-Ball, and Shawn turned out to be a very worthy opponent, even if his methods were questionable.
“Let’s call it a draw,” Shawn said, lifting an eyebrow. “One more throw for both of us.”
“Whatever you say. Let’s roll.”
“Wait,” he said, leaning in a little closer toward me. “The catch: we both have to throw with our non-dominant hand.”