Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“Come on,” I mutter to Daisy. “Let’s go buy some beer for your boyfriend.”
When she sees me reaching for her leash, the golden retriever dances happily at my feet. We head out to my truck, and I open the passenger side door so Daisy can jump up. She only recently learned how to do that. Before, she’d been too little, but now her legs are in that gangly teenager stage, giving her enough leverage to leap higher. She’s growing so damn fast.
“Too bad Mac can’t see you,” I muse to the dog, whose curious, excited gaze is glued out the window. Each time the wind tickles her nose, she releases a high-pitched yip. She derives joy from the simplest pleasures.
In town, I grab a few cases of beer, along with a bottle of tequila and some snacks. As I stow my purchases in the cab, someone calls my name.
I turn to see Tate striding down the sidewalk toward me. He’s holding aviator sunglasses in one hand, and his keys and phone in the other.
“Hey,” I greet him. “How’s it going?”
“Good. I’m meeting Wyatt at Sharkey’s for lunch if you want to tag along.”
“Yeah, I’m in.” The last thing I feel like doing right now is going home and cleaning up the mess Evan left. “Lemme grab Daisy.”
“Oh, hell yes,” Tate says when he notices the dog’s head poking out the passenger window. “Bring the chick magnet.”
Most of the bars and restaurants in the Bay are dog friendly—particularly Sharkey’s, where the staff brings out water bowls and treats for canine guests. Once Tate and I climb the rickety wood staircase up to the second floor of the bar, Daisy is treated like the queen she thinks she is.
“Oh my goodness!” the waitress up front exclaims, pure delight in her eyes. “Look at this cutie! What’s her name?”
“Daisy,” Tate answers for me, then takes the leash from my hand as if to claim ownership of the puppy. “And you are?”
“Jessica,” chirps the waitress. Now she’s all starry-eyed, because she notices Tate’s golden-boy looks. Dude has the infallible ability to dazzle every woman he meets.
This isn’t to say I don’t attract my fair share of attention. It’s just a different kind of attention.
When women look at Tate, they’re struck with romantic notions of weddings and babies.
With me, they see raw, dirty sex. Joke’s on them, though. Tate is the biggest slut in the Bay. Jessica must be new in town, otherwise she’d be well aware of this fact.
“Let me show you to your table,” Jessica says, and then she, Tate, and my dog saunter off.
With a grin, I trail after them, silently betting that Tate will have secured her number before we even pick up our menus.
I lose. He doesn’t get it until she delivers our waters.
“Good job, partner,” Tate tells Daisy, who’s sitting at his feet and gazing up at him adoringly.
Wyatt arrives about ten minutes later. Since Ren isn’t with him, I assume they’re still broken up.
“No Ren?” Tate wrinkles his forehead. “She hasn’t taken you back yet?”
“Nope.” After greeting Daisy with a pat on the head, Wyatt plops himself on the stool across from me and grabs a menu. Then he sets it down without reading it. “Who am I kidding? We all know I’m getting the fish sandwich.”
“What’s taking Ren so long to forgive you?” Tate asks, grinning. “Your epic reunions usually happen fairly fast.”
“She’s dragging it out this time,” Wyatt complains. “She went out with some meathead from her gym last night and sent me a selfie of them watching The Bachelorette together because she knew it’d piss me off.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why would that piss you off?”
“Because it’s our favorite show, dickhead. She’s goddamn TV-cheating on me with a guy who wears mesh tank tops.”
Tate snickers. “Are you more upset about the fact that Ren’s watching a dumb reality show without you, or that she might be banging a gym bro?”
Wyatt waves his hand. “She’s not banging him. It’s just revenge dating. Like when I went out with that chick who works at the surf school after Ren threw out all my band shirts without asking.”
“Didn’t you end up screwing the surf school chick?” Tate says in confusion.
Wyatt stares at him. “That was you, dumbass.”
After a few seconds of pensive recollection, Tate nods decisively. “Oh yeah. You’re right.” He grins. “That chick was wild. She convinced me to try Viagra for the first time. Long night.”
Laughter sputters from my throat.
“You took Viagra without me, bro?” Wyatt accuses.
I laugh even harder. “Since when is it a team activity?” I howl at Wyatt.
Jessica returns to take our food orders and proceeds to flirt shamelessly with Tate. “Does this cutie like walks?”
He winks. “This cutie loves walks.”
“I meant the dog.”
“So did I,” he says innocently.
“I’m off in about an hour. Why don’t you and Daisy meet me on the beach once you’re done eating and I clock out?”