Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 94897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
* * * *
At six-thirty that night, his doorbell rang.
Jagger left his kitchen, went to his front door, opened it, saw Archie outside wearing a pair of faded olive jeans shorts and an oversized V-neck tee she’d knotted at the waist. The tee was white, a little see-through, and what he could see through it was a red bra. She also had on flat sandals with a bunch of braided straps around her feet and ankles.
Seriously, he dug how she dressed.
That was the only thought he had, outside he was pleased as fuck she was there, before he returned the favor she gave him the night before.
He hooked her at the waist, pulled her to his body, dropped his head and took her mouth.
Kissing her deep, he shuffled her in, shut the door, shuffled her around, and then moved them in further.
Only when she was pressing close and had a hand fisted in his hair, did he break the kiss.
“Hey,” he greeted.
“Hey.” She smiled.
Truth.
She was beautiful.
But when she smiled, she was all kinds of pretty.
That might seem a demotion in compliments.
But it was seriously not.
She let his hair go but only to rest her hand on the back of his neck, remained snug against him, and looked around.
And even if she was close, she still managed to collapse against him with her laughter.
He knew what was funny and grinned down at her while she did it.
When she was getting control, she drooped a shoulder and dropped a beat-up leather backpack to the floor.
She did some head turning to take more in before she slapped both hands on his shoulders and said, “Thank God, finally, you do something that’s cute. I mean, could this be more of a bachelor pad?”
He looked around his space that was totally and unapologetically a bachelor pad.
He was a bachelor. And it was his time to have this kind of pad.
So that was what he made it and he went all in.
Even if it was a freestanding, his house was considered a condo since his complex had thirty identical ones built in three sections, one around a small park, another around an outdoor workout space and the last around a communal pool. His condo was in the workout space section.
The grounds and pool were maintained really well, this meaning the HOA was a bitch.
But it was totally worth it.
The front room of his crib was L-shaped with living room to the left, big open kitchen to the right, off the front of kitchen a dining area that led to a wall of windows with French doors that led outside to a decent-size, fenced-in backyard.
The bend of the L contained an office that also had French doors that led outside.
The hall led to a powder room and the master, with stairs that went up to the second floor that held two bedrooms that shared a bath.
The furniture in the living room was sectional, slouchy and comfortable.
The TV was ginormous.
There was a black pool table with gray felt in the dining room space.
His décor consisted of two neon signs, one a vintage Stroh’s and the other was a martini glass with a woman in it, legs high and wide, red pumps on, blonde hair streaming over the side of the glass.
Added to this was his prized collection of boy-perv vintage posters, framed meticulously and mounted on the walls. These included the famous Farrah Fawcett in the red one-piece sitting on the blanket, the tennis player scratching her ass, Tyra Banks’s yellow bikini Sports Illustrated cover, a black and white Jayne Mansfield and three Lottie Mac Corvette posters.
Considering it was a special occasion, he’d turned on the neon for Archie.
“Do you really need a beverage fridge by the pool table when the kitchen is right there?” she asked.
“Babe, I have a seventy-inch TV and I don’t watch TV. Dudes buy shit with plugs regardless if they need shit with plugs. If you didn’t know that, learn it now. It’s likely never gonna stop.”
She laughed softly then suddenly squinted at the wall. “Are those Lottie Macs signed?”
“I got an in with Lottie.”
She looked up at him. “No shit?”
He shook his head. “No shit. She’s a friend.”
“Whoa,” she murmured. “Cool.”
“Have you seen her dance?”
She nodded. “Me and my crew go to Smithie’s on occasion. The new revue is da bomb.”
It really was.
Yeah.
He so fucking liked this girl.
“Want a drink?” he asked.
She nodded, he let her go, but only to take her hand and lead her to the kitchen.
He bent and nabbed her backpack on the way and tossed it to his couch.
Archie took off the little purse she had hanging cross-body to her hip and set it on one of the counters.
Jag then opened the door to his liquor cabinet.
Archie peered in and busted out laughing again.
And again, Jag grinned at her while she did it.