Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Her smile is pure joy. It’s so fucking adorable I want to kiss it off. Right here, right now. I have to remind myself we’re just friends. Friends with a one-week lesson plan. At the end of this, we’ll return to playing pool rather than playing boyfriend games.
“I believe I’m free,” she says.
“Excellent.” But then I hold up a stop-sign hand. It’s not enough to make plans. “My bad. I didn’t ask if there’s something you’d rather do. Would you rather watch a movie? Play cards? Hang out in the hot tub? I want to make sure I’m planning something you actually like.”
She’s quiet for a beat, then she says softly, “Did you and Gavin talk about this?”
Why would she think that? Now I’m thrown off, and I don’t like being unprepared. “What do you mean?”
“Gavin and I talked this morning, and he made a comment about how there are guys who think they’re good boyfriends, but then they make plans a woman doesn’t actually want. Sort of like what you just said.”
That’s very specific. But Gavin and I didn’t talk in detail about Briar’s boyfriend project. “He’s a team player,” I say, hedging my answer. My mind whirs with questions about Gavin even though I keep my focus on her. “Does that work for you? Vintage games?”
“Yes, but what can I do? Do you want snacks? I can pick some up,” she offers.
I tsk her. “I want you not to work for it. Let me take care of tonight. Okay?”
She pauses, like letting go is hard for her, then sighs in faux resignation. “Bossy.”
“And you like it.”
She gives a playful bob of her shoulder. “I do.”
“Now, tell me. What do you like in the snacks department? Chocolate? Ice cream? Candy?”
She winces like she has a terrible confession to make. “More like pretzels, popcorn, and chips.”
“We’ve got board games, neckties, and savory snacks on the agenda tonight.”
She pauses, as if she’s weighing the next thing, then asks hopefully, “So is this a date with my three pretend boyfriends?”
That is a very good question, and one I don’t have the answer to. I glance around, making sure the coast is still clear. It’s just us here at her tent, and it’s time to be as direct as we were with the ties. “Do you want Gavin there?”
“For the board games?” Her tone doesn’t give anything away. She just sounds excited to hang out. “Definitely. It’ll be fun.”
That’s a start. But only a start. Stripping all the flirtation out of my voice, I press on and ask, “And what about in the bedroom?”
Her blue eyes widen, but before she can give me an answer, a curly-haired redhead in tie-dye yoga pants breezes past me and walks straight up to Briar. “Hi,” she says, a little nervous, like she’s meeting a star.
“Hey there. How are you?” Briar says, shifting into outgoing teacher mode.
“I love your videos,” the woman says, and damn, that’s cute to see someone fangirling over Briar.
“I’m so glad to hear that,” Briar says warmly.
“But I can’t for the life of me figure out how to do those flows from downward dog to plank and then back, and it feels like I’m doing the tango with two left feet.”
“It can seem daunting at first. But I’ve got you. Let’s do it together.”
That’s my cue to go. I give a subtle wave then take off, not knowing if it’s a yes or a no to Gavin joining us later.
But I know this—I started this whole thing with Briar. Her happiness feels like my responsibility. I weave through the festival grounds with one goal in mind—to track down Gavin. Trouble is when I find my teammate near a booth peddling handmade kites, Gavin’s not alone. He’s shaking his head adamantly at Wesley, who plays for the rival hockey team.
The Sea Dog digs his heels into whatever the argument is, declaring, “No, it was the episode where he drove the car into the lake. One hundred percent.”
Gavin scoffs at the dark-haired dude with inked arms, saying, “It was the one where he drove it to the edge of the cliff—”
I don’t have time for this debate. “It was a forest. They left the car at the edge of the forest when the nightwalkers arrived. Which was a dumbass move if you ask me. I saw that episode of Twisted Nights the other week,” I say, ready to move this convo from bingeable TV thrillers on Webflix to another kind of twisted night.
Wesley’s eyes register shock, then resignation as he looks my way. “Ah, shit. You’re right, Bouchard.”
Gavin gives me an approving nod. “From art history to pop culture. What would we do without you?”
Wesley arches a brow my way. “Art history?”
I’m not in the mood for this again. “I took the class in college. I don’t know why this is such a thing.”