Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 151864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
“Thank you. There’s still plenty to do around here, but it’s not likely to happen when Sal’s working all the hours God sends.”
“Those hours bought this house,” Sal chimes in, passing the bread around the table.
Moya pays no attention to her husband and takes a seat. “So how are you finding it working for my husband?” She gives Lainey her full attention.
“Great, thank you. I’m really enjoying it at Christianson Walker. Love it, actually.”
Moya nods, thoughtful, and I frown, thinking she’s definitely being frosty. “So Sal mentioned you’re not married,” she says coolly.
Lainey shakes her head, since she’s just taken a mouthful of beef, chewing slowly. This could be a sticky subject. I peek out the corner of my eye, gaging her reaction. “No,” Lainey says straight-up, no nonsense, and with too much conviction. And also without the offer that she once was.
“Dating?”
“No.”
I squeeze her thigh, probably harder than I should. I can’t stop myself.
“She did get two bouquets of flowers today, though,” Sal grunts, necking more Scotch. “One from someone named Tac.”
“Tac?” Moya parrots. “Who’s Tac?”
“Oh, just a man trying to woo me.” Lainey rolls her eyes dramatically. “He’s a bit of a cling-on, to be honest.”
I cough over my beer, quickly placing it on the table and grabbing a napkin to wipe my chin. But I keep my other hand on Lainey’s knee, tightening my grip to the point she’s shifting in her chair. “A cling-on?” I chance a look at her, finding she’s straight-faced with no hint that she’s in any discomfort. And she must be. My fingertips are becoming numb from my grip of her thigh. “I’ve had a few of those in my time,” I mutter.
“I bet.” Moya laughs. “You manwhore, you. How many women have had the honor? Roughly?”
Sal coughs over his Scotch. “I don’t think this a conversation to have in front of an employee or our daughter.”
“Agree,” I pipe in.
“Oh,” Moya laughs. “Mia doesn’t understand, do you, darling? And I’m sure Lainey doesn’t mind getting to know her bosses a little better, do you, Lainey?”
The poor woman looks mortified. This. Is. Fucking. Hideous. But then Lainey seems to straighten her shoulders in a show of strength. “I’m not adverse to a bit of controversy around the dinner table.”
“See?” Moya smiles. “So, how many, Ty?”
I blow out air, flicking my wary eyes to my mate, who looks like he’s in total despair. “Well,” I cough my throat clear, dropping my voice to a whisper. Truth be told, I dare not challenge Moya. She’s scaring me tonight. “Working on averages, I guess . . . fuck!” I yelp, my knee, which currently has some pretty sharp fingernails sunk into it, smacking the underside of the table.
“Uncle Ty!” Mia gasps.
“Tyler!” Moya scorns.
“For God’s sake, Ty!” Sal shouts.
And Lainey? Lainey just smirks at her beef and releases me from her evil clutches. Fuck, that hurt. And . . . seriously? I’m getting ridiculed from all directions for a tiny slip-up, when Moya’s striking up inappropriate conversations over dinner? “Sorry, Mia,” I mumble, turning my attention to the little girl. “Uncle Ty is a bad, bad boy.”
“What’s a manwhore?” she asks innocently.
I recoil and look to Moya. “Over to you.” I fill my mouth quickly so I can’t be forced to talk or say something stupid. Like tell Lainey, out loud, what I plan on doing to her later. It involves my palm and her arse. Damn, I’m not sure what’s most uncomfortable. My stinging thigh, the dreadful atmosphere, or my swollen dick. And then a hand lands in my crotch, and I conclude very quickly that it’s the latter. It’s definitely the latter.
She’ll pay for this.
Dearly.
An hour later, I’m still hungry, but eating without being sure I won’t choke was a risk I wasn’t prepared to take. Lainey has driven me to insanity, nearly pushing me to declare our status, just so I can ravish her publicly. Or maybe even smack her arse. Hard.
“Can I go play now?” Mia asks, pushing her plate away. “I’ve eaten all my greens.”
“Yes, darling,” Moya says, looking at Lainey as Mia bolts off into the garden. “What have you done with my daughter?”
“It’s a miracle,” Sal breathes.
Lainey shrugs one shoulder dismissively. “She’s so bright. And a great listener.”
“Someone needs to be.” Moya directs an accusing glare at Sal as she starts to clear the table, heading for the kitchen.
What the fuck is going on? This is not the woman I’ve known for over twenty years. Moya has always been the life of the party, someone fun and energetic. I’ve never heard her use such venom when talking to or about Sal. I’m confused as fuck.
“I’d better help,” Sal mutters, rising and grabbing a few plates.
I tip my beer to my lips and guzzle down the rest as he follows his wife into the kitchen. “How much pain are you in?” I ask Lainey quietly.