Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
A buzz of voices washed over us from the bar on the far side of the lobby. Someone laughed loud and drunkenly. “It wasn’t like that. He was… nice.”
“Oscar Overton was.” It wasn’t a question, more like an insinuation that I’d lost my marbles.
“Stop saying his whole name like that. He’s a man, not a brand name.” I couldn’t meet Rafa’s eyes. “He’s a human being, not… Louis Vuitton. Or Merrill Lynch. Or… or… Ironman.”
“Oh, boy.” Rafa put his hands on my shoulders. “Okay. First, those were actual men. Well, fictional-actual in the case of Ironman, but—”
“I’m requesting an Uber now.” I took my phone from my pocket, but Rafa snatched it out of my hand.
“But second and more importantly,” he went on, “Oscar Over—that guy—might be a real human being, but he has a reputation for a reason. He’s rich and powerful and even more of a player than I am, which is saying something. Also… pretty sure he ducked out of the party with Roman Burke.”
“Oh.” My heart squeezed a little. “I thought Roman was dating someone.”
Rafa dismissed this with a wave. “I don’t know. And neither do you. Because, and this is crucial, Hugh: you don’t know Oscar Overton. Not after one conversation where he probably asked you to be his flavor of the month—”
“He didn’t,” I insisted, and the fact that it was true—that a guy who dated or at least fucked around with a new guy every night hadn’t taken a single shot at me—hurt more than it should have. “If anything, I flirted with him. And I’m aware that I don’t know him—”
“Are you though?” Rafa’s voice was low and way too gentle.
“Of course I am.” This conversation had officially burned off my wedding afterglow.
“We’ve talked about this,” Rafa continued. “No naming your children before you’ve actually met a guy in person. No practicing your hyphenated signature until you’ve fucked twice and shared a meal together—”
“That was one time,” I grumbled.
“—and no planning out your happily ever after with a guy before your third date because that’s how you get hurt. Cough, Jared, cough.”
I shot him a furious look. “We do not discuss Jared. Ever.”
“I know.” He held up his hand. “I know, I know. But you know I’m right. Because otherwise, you end up spending four days on our sofa binge-watching Love Island on your laptop, ignoring a billion texts from your sister, and—” Brrp. Rafa glanced down at his pocket. “Shit.”
I raised an eyebrow. “SamiTsunami’s impatient. We should get home.”
“Actually… about that.” Rafa gave me a smile that was half-apologetic grimace. “He’s, um… here? Like, at the hotel. So.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. “Go.”
“Nah. No. It’s fine.” He threw an arm over my shoulder. “Gays before baes and all that. I’ll blow him off. You and I can stake out the bar. I saw at least one wedding guest trying to catch a glimpse of your equipment earlier, and I do not mean your camera. Here, let’s untie that bow tie, and lemme unbutton that top—yeah. Perfect.” He gave me a critical look, then ran a hand through the curls above my forehead to muss them up. “Trust Auntie Rafa, buddy: the best way to get over Mr. Not-So-Right is to find yourself a Mr. Right Now. Two hot bodies, one hard fuck, zero promises.”
Brrp. Brrp. Brrp.
I combed my hair back into place and shook my head, amused. “Go, Rafa.” I ducked out from under his arm and pushed him toward the elevator bank. “I’m never gonna see Oscar again, so whatever thoughts I was having, I’m over them. A hundred percent. And I appreciate your offer, but if I wanted a hookup, I’m perfectly capable of getting one without a wingman.”
“I know you’re capable, but whether you’ll do it is a different—”
“Don’t keep Mr. Tsunami waiting on my account,” I insisted.
Still, Rafa hesitated. “Are you sure? Because if you need me…”
“Sounds like you’re the one who’s unsure.” I tilted my head in mock concern. “Ohhh, I see the problem. You’ve started worrying about the last name thing now, haven’t you? Would you want to be known in the events industry as RafaTsunami?” I made a disapproving noise. “Maybe Rafael Tsunami-Clavel?” I tapped a finger to my lip thoughtfully. “This is an important question. Maybe we should sit and talk it through…”
“Dork.” He shoved my shoulder. “Funnily enough, I don’t think that’ll come up tonight.” Rafa couldn’t hide his grin. “But other things certainly will. I’ll give you all the dirty deets tomorrow.”
I laughed again. “Please do not,” I called as he made a beeline for the elevator. “Not a single deet!”
When Rafa was gone, I took a single step toward the front door, my finger poised over the Request Ride button on my phone, then hesitated. I glanced back at the laughing crowd spilling out of the bar into the lobby.