Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“J-Babe! Yo! Open up!”
Why the hell is Blake at my door?
I whip the covers off and hurry out to the front hall. I swear to God, if he’s here to tell me that Jamie and Wes are in jail because of something that happened at the bachelor party, I am going to murder him.
There’s another heavy thud on the door. “Come on, Jess! I’m tired. If I don’t get the exact right amount of beauty sleep, I’ll—”
He stops talking when I fling the door open. A happy grin stretches his mouth, but it turns into a smirk when he notices my pajamas. “Aw shit, that’s so fucking adorable. I love bananas—did I ever tell you they’re my favorite fruit? And apricots. I like apricots too.”
I am literally seconds away from strangling him. Yes, my neon-pink pajama pants and matching tank are covered with yellow cartoon bananas. But it’s one in the morning, he’s clearly drunk judging by the bright shine to his green eyes, and he’s at my doorstep talking about fruit?
“What. Are. You. Doing. Here.” Each word is punctuated by the slap of my hand on the doorframe.
Blake steps closer, a black duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Your mom didn’t tell you? I’m crashing here tonight.”
My jaw falls open. “Oh no, you’re not.”
“Oh yes, I am.” He drops the bag on the stoop with a loud thump. “My man Cindy said she ran it by you.”
“My mother is not a man,” I grind out.
He waves a big hand. “Figure of speech. My pal Cindy, how about that? She said she texted you.”
I hesitate. Okay, that’s actually possible. There were about two dozen texts on my phone after the rehearsal dinner, mostly from the caterer and some wedding guests asking me last-minute questions. I hadn’t finished going through them, so I suppose I could’ve missed a text from Mom.
But still.
“Wes said you were staying at the inn with your teammates,” I say suspiciously.
Blake rakes a hand through his scruffy dark hair. “I was. But I had to give up my room.”
“To who?” I demand.
“I believe it’s to whom.”
Is he seriously correcting my grammar right now?
“I gave the room to my date.”
I can’t explain why my chest tightens at that, but I know for a fact it’s not jealousy I’m feeling. I already knew Blake was bringing a date to the wedding. His invitation had a plus-one. Besides, I’m bringing a date too. I specifically made sure of it because I didn’t want to deal with Blake’s annoying comments if I showed up solo.
“She won’t share a room with you? What, she’s waiting for marriage?” I don’t bother curbing the sarcasm.
Blake shrugs. “She’s already married.”
Excuse me?
I don’t know whether to be outraged or…well, outraged. He’s bringing a married woman to my little brother’s wedding?
“Are you out of your goddamned mind?”
He considers the question. “I’m kinda drunk but nowhere near out of my goddamned mind. That would require more scotch. Got any?”
“No!” I shriek, my blood pressure notching up into the red zone. It’s one in the morning, and I need to be asleep right now.
So I do what a girl with five siblings learns to do to keep the urge to commit murder at bay. I count quietly to myself until it passes. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi…
After quite a few deep, cleansing breaths, I do what’s necessary. “Get in here already.” I step aside, and Blake gallops in the door. “You’re on the couch.”
“Does it fold out?”
“Negative. But you’ll survive.”
He looks dubious, but I don’t have time to care. I hustle to the cupboard that doubles as my linen closet and pull out a set of sheets. It’s summertime in California; he won’t need more than that.
I thrust the pile of linens into his hands. “Sleep well.”
He looks at the sheets in his hands and then back at me. “Don’t leave yet,” he says as I edge toward my bedroom door. “Aren’t you gonna tuck me in?”
“You’re a big boy.”
His grin turns wicked. “I sure am. You probably remember pretty well, because I’m unforgettable. But I could give you a refresher right now.” He drops the sheets onto the sofa and reaches for his fly.
And that’s my cue to get the hell out of there. I stomp into my bedroom and slam the door.
***
I have the odd, stress-filled dreams of a party planner. In one of them, the wedding cake doesn’t show up and my mother decides to bake one at the last minute. We get into an argument about whether seven-grain is the way to go on a wedding cake. (My mother is a famously healthy baker, with mixed results.) In another dream, it rains, and the tent we rented melts into white blobs, like sodden toilet paper.
Then things take a turn for the weird. I dream there’s a grizzly bear in my bed, and I’m okay with it. And then the dream gets sexy. The bear’s body is warm and hard, and his ambitious erection is poking me in the bum, and he fingers my nipples…