Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Oh my God,” Judd moans happily.
His reaction is shared by every other guy in the room, Dan included. Our only gay brother literally hops to his feet and starts bumping his hips against one of the girls who’s still on land. Granted, he seems more into the song than the chick, but still. I feel betrayed, and Dan and I aren’t even close.
Chaos erupts all around me. The seductive trio on the table shake their hips, dancing in sexy, sinuous moves that summon cheers and catcalls from the twenty-three other guys in the room. And—fuck me—they can really move. It’s sexy, with hips swinging and asses shaking near my guys’ overjoyed faces. But it’s a real show, too.
Unfuckingbelievable.
I’m too stunned by this unexpected turn of events to fully appreciate the gorgeous, half-naked creatures dancing expertly for us.
I glower at Bailey, who just grins at me. “Who needs change for a twenty?” he calls as he circles the table. “It’s polite to tip our entertainers.” He’s making the rounds, offering stacks of small bills to our frat brothers, who all dive for their wallets.
That fucking evil genius. Food and strippers. He really does know the way to a man’s heart.
“Who’s ready for strip poker?” Jako shouts from the kitchen doorway. He’d disappeared right after dinner ended, and now I know why—beyond his broad shoulders, I glimpse the three green-felt game tables he set up in our dining room.
So much for him being “confused” by Bailey. Obviously Jako was in on it the entire time.
“Fuck yeah!” Judd shouts back.
Ah hell. Everyone knows how much Judd loves poker. And now we’re talking naked poker?
Evil fucking genius.
Judd lumbers forward, one beefy arm slung around the shoulders of a curvy dancer with big green eyes. On his way to the kitchen, my traitorous best friend stops to slap Luke Bailey’s shoulder. “Epic,” he tells Bailey. “This is fucking epic.”
Et tu, Judd? Et fucking tu?
As I inwardly bristle, I feel someone’s gaze on me. I stiffly turn my head and find Bailey grinning at me again. His big hand lifts, long fingers fluttering in a fuck-you wave. His brown eyes convey a very clear sentiment.
Game. Set. Match.
Too Bad I Hate Sharing
Luke
On Monday, we have our chapter meeting, where we go over the calendar, the budget, and any issues that may arise. These are just as dreadfully boring as they sound, although I understand why they’re necessary.
If you don’t arrive early for these meetings, you don’t get a seat, but even though I’m five minutes ahead of schedule, I’m still relegated to a standing spot against the wall.
Until Tanner, of all people, says, “Bailey, sit here. Anthony, move your ass.”
I try not to raise my eyebrows. I’ve been receiving a helluva lot of praise from the guys since last night’s home run, but Tanner is Team Keaton. Since when do Keaton’s friends ask me to sit with them? And kicking Anthony off the couch, to boot? Is this an alternate dimension?
Still, I’m not about to look a gift frat horse in the mouth.
I settle on the sofa next to Tanner, while lowly sophomore Anthony scampers toward the wall.
“Yo,” Tanner says. “Guess who texted me this morning.”
“Who?”
“Cassidy,” he answers, and there’s a red tinge to his cheeks. “I’m taking her to dinner on Friday.”
I nod in approval. “Well done. She’s a sweet girl.” In fact, Cassidy is of my favorite dancers at Jack’s. I get along with all the women, but I have a soft spot for Cassidy. Not only because she’s sweet as pie, but because we both grew up in Darby. The locals have to look out for each other.
“Can’t believe you’re friends with all those strippers,” Paxton says from Tanner’s other side. He sounds envious. “That’s so fucking cool, bro.”
I just shrug. But inside, I give a mental fist pump. I knocked my Dance-off party out of the park yesterday. Even Hayworth knows it—his face was darker than a thundercloud as he watched all his friends dance and flirt with my girls until the wee hours of the morning.
Cassidy and company aren’t complaining, either. I paid them an hourly wage for serving the dinner, but then the brothers put a lot more cash in their hands. And nobody took things too far, thank God. I only had to remind one drunken sophomore that he wasn’t allowed to touch the dancers.
“Are we starting or what?” Judd grumbles from the other couch. “I got shit to do.”
Brad, our secretary, takes attendance on a clipboard. Along with sending out communications to our email list, this might be his only job. No free room for you, sucker.
“Okay, ladies,” begins Reed, our president. “We have several items of importance to get through before we feast on hot dogs, beer, and the hockey game. Go Bruins. First up! An investigation into an item that’s gone missing. Has anyone seen the toilet plunger that belongs in the second-floor bathroom? If this was some kind of prank, can it end now?”