Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
My stomach says give him my lifesavings.
I’ve just finished tossing another Blistered Shishito Pepper into my mouth when my parents come sauntering around Slater into the kitchen territory.
Dad releases a small chuckle, “I knew the second I spotted Wahl, you’d be within three feet of him.”
Slater merely smirks and slides a hand into his pants pocket.
“The man really does not let you out of his sight except to pee,” he adds, orange words springing around like little bouncy balls.
“Even that’s not always the case,” I playfully poke at the same time Dad snatches up one of the green treats.
“I take my job very seriously,” my boyfriend insists, blue lettering soft in color but firm in form.
“Would that be the job of protecting the client or protecting the woman you love?” Mom teasingly inquires on a tip of her champagne glass in his direction.
Slater’s answer is swiftly shot back with another cocky smirk. “Yes.”
Their combined laughter along with Tamura’s has my cheeks tinting and me reaching for the nearby green beans to hide my blushing.
“I think when they have kids someday he’ll do the same thing to them,” Dad states between loud chomps.
“Oh…” my mother golf claps against her glass in agreement. “I think he will too!”
“And I think we should end this conversation and play another game.” Licking the delicious garlic flavor off my lips is followed by picking up a napkin to clean my hands. “Maybe something less physical than Ring Toss?” There’s no preventing my head from tilting in concern. “How’s your back doing, Dad?”
“Nothin’ a little beer couldn’t fix.”
Slater’s chortle immediately receives a displeased glare that he meets with an innocent shoulder shrug.
Just because he’s willing to risk life or limb for every task he takes on doesn’t mean everyone else is.
Or should be.
Especially when it comes to an innocent bridal shower game!
“I’mma get us one of those bottles of wine, Delley,” Dad coos, closing the gap between him and Mom. “Don’t give up on me yet.”
She smiles wide and leans up to kiss him just as T whips into the scene. “Ughhhhh,” groans my brother, needlessly shielding his eyes, “can you not put your tongue in Mom’s mouth for like twenty minutes?” He slides over to pluck up one of the peppers. “You have any idea how weird it is to have to convince your in-laws that probably wasn’t your parents coming out of the bathroom from a quickie?!”
More laughter falls from everyone except this time I join in.
What can I say?
It’s fun when the spotlight isn’t on me.
“By the way, Arlez, this playlist?” He kicks his thumb over his shoulder. “Insane.”
“Slater helped,” I immediately inform, not wanting to take all the credit for something we did together. “That little 80s karaoke moment brought to you by ‘I Melt With You’? All him.”
“Did not realize how crazy that song would make Hildy go,” my brother sweetly gushes. “Or that she knew every fucking word to ‘Speechless’ by Dan and something.”
“Shay.” The effortless informing has another round of credit going to my boyfriend. “Also Slater.”
“Yeah but ‘Sunday Morning’ and ‘This Will Be’ were all you, baby.”
“Huh.” More peppers are flung into T’s mouth. “Maybe we should let you two DJ the wedding.”
“Or maybe…” I attempt to segue again, “we should focus on playing the next game?” My nodding is trailed by shooting Slater a pleading look to assist in the transition. “Maybe one of the trivia ones?”
“So that Dad doesn’t hurt his back again?” T quickly investigates.
“I’m fine,” our father insists on an unhappy grump.
“Trivia sounds like a good call, Angel Cake,” Slater smoothly states. “Maybe the Nearly Wed game?”
“Is that the one where you ask the couples questions and they have to answer on a dry erase board? Because if so,” T mindlessly smacks between shoveling more peppers into his mouth, “I vote yes. I know sooooo much shit about Hildy and need to bring home a win for this family. We suck out there.”
Dad shakes his head in commiseration, “We do suck.”
“You’d think Arlez would’ve catered these games in our favor,” my brother juvenilely criticizes.
“How is it my fault you still suck at charades?!”
“You suck at charades too!”
“I’m great at charades!”
Slater waves his hand from side to side in silent disagreement.
“Hey!” A sharp finger is stabbed in his direction. “Did we or did we not beat Blu and Aviva last time we played?!”
“You are an amazin’ guesser, Angel Cake,” Cowboy lovingly reassures, “but horrible actor.”
“Ouch.”
“See,” T childishly snickers only to receive a scowl from me.
“Trivia sounds like fun,” our mother announces, pulling our attention to her. “Why don’t I ask the questions, so you and Wahl can play?”
“Because I’m the host…” Feeling a bit of anxiousness tap the mic has me rushing to add. “And the host, hosts the games.”
“You scared, Arlez?” T impishly goads in his famous fashion. “You afraid of how bad you might lose?”