Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 121992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
A second later, a loud buzzing sound broke me out of my trance. The dryer had gone off.
“Shit.” He closed his eyes. “I usually try to stop it before that happens.”
“Will she wake up now?” I asked, slightly out of breath.
“She’s a pretty deep sleeper, so probably not.”
Feeling a bit rattled, not only by the buzzer, but by the fact that I’d lost my resolve, I made an impulsive decision. “You know what? I didn’t realize the time. It’s getting a bit late, and I have an early client tomorrow. I should probably head home. You think you can handle the rest yourself?”
“Absolutely.” He nodded, probably reading between the lines. “Let me call you a car.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He pulled out his phone. “I insist.”
My ride got here in two minutes, less than the amount of time it took to carry the unfolded laundry from the dryer out to the living room.
Colby hugged me goodbye, the hard muscles of his chest pressing against my breasts and reminding me of exactly why I’d decided to leave early.
The ride home was anything but uneventful, though. Because five minutes into it, my phone chimed. Colby had sent me a photo, along with this message:
Just in case you still had any doubt about the underwear situation.
My jaw dropped. It could’ve been a Calvin Klein ad. Colby stood in front of a full-length mirror in nothing but gray boxer briefs. His beautiful, hard chest and taut abs were on full display, as was the thin line of hair trailing down into his underwear. And let’s just say the prominent bulge staring me in the face most definitely could not have fit into those tiny red Brazilian briefs. Christ on a Lunchables cracker. He was hotter than I’d ever imagined.
And now I was back to thinking maybe he wasn’t such a good guy after all—because he was clearly trying to kill me.
CHAPTER 9
Colby
“Alright, are we all in agreement?” Owen looked around the table. “We’re going to upgrade the HVAC system with the money we have in the account, and put off doing the roof until next year?”
I raised my beer. “Agreed.”
Owen turned to Holden and Brayden. “What about you guys?”
They both shrugged, as was typical. They tended to go along with the group consensus.
“Works for me,” Holden said.
“Same,” Brayden added.
Owen leaned forward and held his beer over the middle of the table in a toast. “Then this month’s board meeting is officially over. Let the real drinking begin.”
We all clanked beer bottles.
On the second Friday of every month, the four of us got together to discuss the building and make decisions. Technically, our meetings were considered shareholder board meetings since we were a corporation, but considering we held them in a bar and had to yell over the band playing, it was more like a night out with the guys.
Holden stood. He cupped his hands around his mouth to talk over the music. “What are we doing tonight, boys? Tequila or whiskey?”
I preferred beer, but it wasn’t worth the ball-busting I’d get if I didn’t participate. The other guys all said tequila, so I shrugged. “Tequila it is.”
As usual, we took turns going up to the bar for a round of shots and picking up the tab. By the fourth one, I was glad there weren’t five of us, because I was already feeling no pain.
Holden pointed to the band. “I’m friends with these guys. When I talked to them earlier, they invited me to sit in with them for a song. I think I’m gonna take them up on it.” He motioned to a table of four women who had come in a little while ago and were sitting near the stage. “I’ll make us some friends, too.”
Making friends with women was never a problem for Holden. On his way up to join the band, he stopped by the ladies’ table, and within a minute, he had them all smiling and laughing.
When he finally left their table, he spoke to the band, and then the drummer got up. Holden took a seat at the drum set and grabbed the microphone. He twirled a stick in his other hand before pointing it at the ladies he’d just chatted with and flashing his signature lazy smile. “This next song is dedicated to my new friend, Nikki.”
I chuckled when they started playing the old Van Halen song “Hot for Teacher” and leaned over to Owen. “I guess we know what Nikki does for a living.”
“Yeah, no shit.” He shook his head. “Dude’s got a song to get in any girl’s pants.”
A minute later, Owen’s phone buzzed. He looked down at it and frowned. “It’s the office. I’m going outside so I can hear.”
“Alright.” I nodded.
Owen came back ten minutes later, just as Holden returned to the table.