Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Ledger tips his chin toward Beverly, balancing plates as she makes her way to us. “Eat fast, then. We’ve got to get this show on the road.”
I spread my napkin on my lap at lightning speed.
On the way out, Ledger and Dev argue about who’s paying. Ledger wins. Dev harrumphs, then grabs a couple T-shirts from the display, scanning the sizes. Satisfied, he whips out some bills from his wallet, likely way more than needed, then slaps them on the counter. He adds a diner postcard. It’s a retro-style shot with the name lit up in neon. “Keep the change, Beverly,” he says.
With the quickness of a woman who can figure out fifteen percent of anything in less than a second, she takes the bills and gives a very approving nod. “Thanks, kid.”
I suspect he gave her way more than the recommended tip.
He slips the postcard into his back pocket. On the way out, I pat his arm. “You’re swee—”
I swallow the end of the word as Dev makes quick work of the buttons on his dress shirt. In no time, they’re undone and he’s tugging the material out of the waistband of his slacks, then shedding it, and…where is my jaw?
Dev’s abs have abs. His pecs are stacked. And the smattering of golden brown chest hair covering those muscles? It goes down, down, down into a tempting happy trail that teases me as it disappears into his pants.
It’s Christmas morning and my birthday all rolled into one. As I walk to the car, I don’t know where to furtively look—at his broad chest, or the ladder of his abs, or the way they taper into a tight, trim V at his hips. I choose…everywhere. Up, down, all around, I gawk at his glorious muscles and miles of skin, a little more golden than I’d expect for a guy with a fair complexion. He must like to take his shirt off in the summer. I hope summer never ever ends.
A throat clears. “Aubrey, do you want me to pick up your chin from the ground?”
I startle at Ledger’s dry words and try, I swear I try, to collect my thoughts.
“Why…?” It’s all I can manage.
With a smug smile, Dev tugs the T-shirt on. “It was hot in that dress shirt all day.” With his grin widening, he tips his chin toward me, then his buddy. “Besides, you two are sporting new threads. Seems only fair I got in on the action,” he says, tugging the new shirt down the rest of the way as we reach the car.
Bye-bye, shirtlessness. Hello…Try My Pancake Special?
I didn’t realize that was what the shirt said. “I guess we’ll know what to order when we return,” I say.
“It’s a deal.” Dev tosses me a shirt, and I catch it, faintly hoping we get to try the pancakes someday.
He slings the other one to Ledger, who grabs it one-handed. I hold mine close, liking the gift more than a casserole dish, a cake stand, and a mandolin. All the things Aiden chose. I’ll have to deal with the stupid registry soon enough.
Dev wiggles his fingers at Ledger. “My turn. I want to drive this sweet ride,” he says.
With zero protest, Ledger hands him the key fob. “You’ll love how she handles.”
8
LESSONS FROM A CARDBOARD DICK
Ledger
Room 131 is nearly in my crosshairs.
When I get there, I’m raring to bang on the door with the kind of ferocity seen when the muscle shows up in a movie. Hell, when Aiden opens it, I’m going to have to refrain from slamming a fist into that coward’s piehole.
I’m clenching and unclenching my fists as we march through the lobby of the Airport Inn like a Reservoir Dogs posse, long strides eating up the carpet, Aubrey keeping pace with us, powered by her thirst for romance vengeance.
We must look like a gang of misfits, her in her hacked-up dress, stockings and boots, Dev sporting his new pancake special shirt, and me in my Crocs that squeak as we head down the hallway, a giant cardboard schlong under my arm.
I can’t wait to deliver it.
When I turn the corner, I scan the digits on the doors. Almost there. A few more rooms.
Number 131 looms, but before we reach it, I stick out my arm, stopping Aubrey. Dev stops too.
“What is it?” she whispers.
“You still good with this?”
“Yes. Are you having second thoughts?”
I scoff. “Nope. I just want to make sure you’re all in.”
She gives a soft smile. “Love that you asked, but the answer is yes. Go get ’em…tiger.”
Mmm…that word. That nickname. Not that I don’t like Stern Brunch Daddy—I like it too much. Just like I’m enjoying her saying tiger with a little throaty purr to her pretty voice. Just like I’m enjoying everything about her more than I should.
But now’s not the time to go soft.