This Is Wild Read online Natasha Madison (This is #2)

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: This Is Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
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“That is exactly what that means,” I say, now turning to look at them in the back. The way she’s sitting, her skirt is pulled up just a touch, baring even more leg. “I’ve seen it happen before in LA.” I quickly turn back to face the front.

I feel a hand on my seat, and then I hear her whisper beside me, “I can’t not drink tonight.”

“Have one for me,” I tell her and then turn to the side to face her. “And I’m sorry for showing up. They wouldn’t take no as an answer.”

“I mean, this still doesn’t mean I want to date you, FYI. Even though it’s like a double date.” She smiles at me, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Will I ever live that down?” I ask her, and she shakes her head and sits back in her seat.

“Not anytime soon,” she says and looks out the window, and I turn to look out mine as well. I wonder if she’s nervous about me meeting her date. I wonder if she’s thinking about what we spoke about. I wonder if she feels that little burning in her stomach that I’m feeling. I don’t have time to think about it or dwell on it because ten minutes later, we are walking into the restaurant, and I let out a huge sigh of relief knowing it’s just the four of us.

* * *

“That is a definite yes,” Zara says to me as I stand in the middle of a room with mirrors all around me. “Do you like the fit?”

I look down at the blue suit I’m wearing, and it’s almost like the blue suit I tried on right before this. It’s also the same as the black suit she made me try on. I’m about to answer her when I hear Zoe behind us. “It’s the same suit.”

Zoe lays with her head on the armrest of the couch in the waiting area, and Evan is next to her on his phone. “Why am I here?” she groans and looks at Evan who just smiles. I look in the mirror right at her, so it’s not obvious I’m really looking at her.

“You’re here because you owe me for carrying your ass to bed last night,” he says, and I shake my head. Last night, I sat next to Zoe and ignored my body’s reaction to her. I ignored every single time our hands grazed. I ignored when the wine started hitting her, and she would lean in a touch too close and talk to me. Zoe drank way too much wine, so much wine that it was her idea to hit up a karaoke bar.

“I don’t owe you anything,” she says, raising her head. “I was perfectly okay with sleeping on the stairs.” She then stands up. “I need some water,” she announces, walking out of the room.

“Evan,” Zara says, “go with her, or she’ll go to the furniture floor and nap on one of the beds.” He shakes his head, puts down his phone, and then goes in search of Zoe.

“Will she really go find a bed?” I ask, concerned she’ll be kicked out of this posh store.

“No.” She smiles and shakes her head. “Okay, maybe.” She shrugs. “It happened one time, but in her defense, we were furniture shopping for my parents.”

“I …” I start to say. “I …”

“You have no words. I know,” Zara says. “Now, besides suits, do you have active wear?” she asks me. “What about casual wear? Beach wear? Nighttime wear?”

“Nighttime wear?” I ask, confused, thinking it might be something else.

“What do you wear to bed?” she asks, then holds up her hands. “If it’s too personal, it’s fine.”

“Boxers,” I answer her, and she crosses her hands over her chest.

“Interesting,” she says, and I’m about to ask her what she means by that, but Zoe comes back in followed by Evan.

“If you aren’t out of that suit in three minutes, I’m going to go and crawl on the bed on the sixth floor,” Zoe says, sitting down on the couch

“Calm down. He’s done,” Zara says and looks at me. “You can undress. I’ll go speak to them about everything else now that I have your sizes.”

Stepping into the changing room, I’m done in under two minutes. When I walk out, the only one left in the room is Zoe who lounges on the couch. “I think I’m going to die,” she moans. “I’m breaking up with wine,” she mumbles. “For good this time.”

“Why?” I ask, trying not to laugh.

“Evan showed me the video of me singing I am woman, hear me roar.” She closes her eyes and covers her face. “But it explains why my groin hurts. I haven’t done the splits since I was fifteen.”

“I’m just thankful that one part of your dress was longer than the other or else it would be a whole different show.” I sit next to her. Since I’ve told her we couldn’t date, it’s been lighter and more of a joking thing. Though it did sting a bit when she told me I wasn’t her type. It should have been a weight lifted off my shoulders, but it wasn’t. I mean, when she walked downstairs yesterday, my jaw pretty much hit the floor. She was the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, and I’ve lived in Hollywood. She just oozed sex, beauty, and … fuck, those legs.


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