Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
I took the napkin and dabbed at my nose. “Nu-uh, I’m not sick.”
Alicia exhaled heavily. “You say it as if it would make you weak if you were. Everyone gets sick sometimes. Ew, don’t drop the germ-ridden napkin into your popcorn.”
“I’m done eating it.”
“I wasn’t.”
Demolishing the last of her hot dog, Harri looked at Alicia. “Why didn’t you just buy your own?”
“I didn’t feel like it.” Alicia retrieved her water bottle from the cupholder and unscrewed the cap. “I wasn’t hungry anyway.”
Harri’s brows inched up. “Is that why you ate half my mini doughnuts an hour ago?”
“I was being helpful. You could never have eaten all of them by yourself.”
“Helpful? Really?”
Alicia drank some water. “Really.”
“Did Jag tell you that?”
Alicia’s eyes flared. “Stop bringing him up every time I annoy you.” She placed the cap back on her bottle and then plonked it in the cupholder. “You know he and I have barely spoken.”
I shifted slightly on the plastic seat, grateful it was cushioned unlike those in the tiered rows—having a numb butt was no fun. “Speaking of Jag, I met his girlfriend. She glared at me like I’d tossed shit in her salad.”
Her forehead creasing, Harri swiped at her mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, she did that to me, too.”
I felt my brows snap together. “What? When?”
“When I bumped into her and Jag at a grocery store,” Harri replied.
“What a whore,” snarked Alicia, her protective instincts clearly all stirred up. “Did you slap her?”
“No, I mentioned it to Drey and asked what her issue was,” Harri explained. “He said not to take it personally; that Leonie doesn’t like people who she terms ‘trust fund babies.’”
“Ah,” I said. “Got it.” It wasn’t uncommon for people to brand us spoiled, superior, and out of touch with reality … as if we grew up in a bubble where we weren’t exposed to the harshness of the world.
“Those people annoy me so much,” Alicia grumbled.
“Samesies.” Removing my sunglasses, I rubbed my aching temple. “But most do change their tune once they get to know us. Whether Leonie will bother getting to know us, I don’t know.”
I winced in sympathy as one of the people on the metal stairways stumbled, sending popcorn flying everywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d slipped due to a soda spill—there was plenty of them. The steps were also littered with bits of food, wrappers, and receipt stubs.
“Whoa,” began Alicia, “isn’t that Trace Lacroix?”
Following her gaze, I noticed that the famous actor was indeed stood in the neighboring VIP suite. He wasn’t alone. His wife, Briar, and the other male in their triad, Kaleb, was with him.
Alicia stroked at her neck. “She is a lucky, lucky girl having two such fine specimens as husbands.”
Absolutely, but … “I don’t know if I personally could deal with two, though. One is enough.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Dax.
I almost jumped at the sound of his voice. Tipping my head back to find him stood directly behind me, I cast him a frown. “Stop sneaking up on me.”
“I didn’t sneak,” he calmly objected. “You just didn’t hear me.”
“Too busy ogling an actor,” Caelan teased from beside him.
I shot the tattooist a Don’t stir the pot look that only make him grin.
Walking onto the balcony with her husband, Kensey subtly peeked at Trace. “He is a treat to look at.”
Blake gave her a hard stare. “I’m right here.”
She widened her eyes in innocence. “It was a clinical observation.”
Blake snorted. “Sure.”
Just then, Trace glanced our way. His gaze zeroed in on Dax, and Trace then offered him a quick nod before going back to his conversation with his wife.
Again, I tilted my head to meet Dax’s gaze. “You know him personally?”
“To an extent.” His eyes zipped to my baby sister. “Do you have any experience at training cats, Harri?”
Twisting her head to look up at him, she blinked, seeming surprised by the question. “A little. Cats can be tricky creatures, but they’re not very difficult to train.”
“Even if they’re psychopathic?” he asked.
I shot him a glare. “Hey! Gypsy is not a psychopath. She needs some love and understanding.”
“She needs a therapist,” he countered.
“No, she—why are you nodding your head, Alicia?” I asked my sister.
She froze. “Uh, no reason.”
I would have branded her a liar, but my nose chose that moment to tickle again. Another sneeze—this one much less delicate than the last—fairly erupted out of me. Again, I gratefully accepted a napkin from Harri.
Skirting around the row of seats to stand in front of me, Dax studied my face carefully. “Are you all right?”
“Perfectly fine,” I replied, gently wiping my nose.
He squinted. “You’re pale, your eyes are watery, and your nose is red.”
“Don’t flatter me so.” I dumped the napkin in the popcorn box at my feet. “I’m not sick.”
One of his brows slid up. “You’re sure about that?”