Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
“Slashed his commission to one percent. It’s unheard of in London! The fucking prick has priced everyone out of the race.”
“So now wouldn’t be a good time to tell you he’ll be at the anniversary party tomorrow night?”
Drew’s jaw tenses to snapping point. “No, Jesse, now would not be a good time.”
“Oh.”
“You need a drink,” Sam muses.
“No, I need a good fuck, Sam, and that’s exactly what I’ll get once I’ve finished lunching with you two girls. I’m fucking starving.” Off he goes, every step angry, his pace quite speedy.
“He really is hungry,” Sam quips, just as Drew stops again and answers his phone. We pass him, getting the full force of his explicit outburst before he hangs up, straightens his jacket, and follows us.
“I’m over it,” he declares, and I laugh as I enter the bar, my eyes, as if they know exactly where to find her, landing on Ava immediately. She has that split expression she often sports, the one that’s part delighted and part pissed off. She’s happy but not happy to see me.
I look at Kate, and she nods subtlety, telling me silently that she’s come through for me. Good girl.
Fucking hell. Am I really doing this?
I give Ava a kiss on the cheek, faltering from pulling away when I catch a whiff of wine. It’s hardly past noon. And it’s a working day—a working day that we’re only halfway through.
Be reasonable, brother. Once upon a time, you watched the clock like a hawk, wishing midday would arrive sooner.
I inwardly laugh. Exactly. It wasn’t healthy. Healthy drinking is social drinking, maybe once or twice a month. Definitely not on a lunch break. What would Patrick say?
I pull a chair across and lower, feeling at Ava’s thigh, making up for lost time. I can feel her glaring at me.
“You took my car keys,” she says, full of indignation.
I ignore her. I didn’t come to lunch to argue. “Everyone okay?”
“I’m good,” Kate chirps, as Ava fights to withdraw her leg from my touch and I, with little fight, keep it exactly where it is. “And I’m ordering,” Kate goes on, grabbing the menu and standing. “What’s everyone having?”
“Salad for me,” Sam says, settling. “You know what I like.”
I raise a brow as Drew scans the menu. “I’ll have the club, extra bacon, easy on the pickles, loaded fries, some slaw, and a beer.” He slaps the menu on the table. “Please.”
“And a side of sex,” Sam adds.
“That’s for dessert.” Drew smiles sarcastically and slumps back in his chair. I look at Ava, finding her watching me, daydreaming.
“You’ve had a drink.” The accusation falls out of my mouth, and she freezes, looking incredibly guilty.
“It was an accident.”
It’s just a glass of wine. One glass. “I don’t mind you having a drink if I’m with you, Ava,” I say, hoping to eliminate the guilt, returning my attention to Sam and Drew. One glass.
“Well, it should be a sport,” Drew says, as Kate returns with a waiter who’s carrying a tray of drinks.
“What should?” I ask.
“Fucking.” Sam smiles up at Kate when she passes him a beer. “Don Juan here thinks he’s a pro.”
“I am,” Drew grunts.
“Wasn’t Don Juan famous for seducing women?” Kate asks. “You don’t want to seduce, Drew, you just want to fuck. Right?”
Drew points his bottle of beer at Kate, and I look out the corner of my eye, wondering what Ava’s making of this. Nothing, apparently. She’s still just watching me. I squeeze her thigh, snapping her out of her daze, and she smiles.
“Right,” Drew confirms. “And it should be considered an extreme sport.”
“So”—Kate’s tongue is in her cheek as she lowers to a chair—“How’s Victoria?”
I purse my lips and turn my attention Drew’s way, along with everyone else around the table.
“Don’t ask. She’s sweet, but God, she’s got to lighten up.”
I feel Ava shift under my hold of her leg. “Why did you ask her to go?” she asks, surprising me. How does she know Drew invited Victoria to The Manor? I look at Kate, whose lips form a straight line. Kate told her. Sam told Kate. Drew told Sam.
“It’s who I am,” Drew says, no apology. “It’s what I like.”
“Amen.” Sam toasts thin air, and Kate joins, hitting her glass against his bottle, both of them smiling knowingly. Fucking hell. I discreetly look out the corner of my eye to Ava and find what I knew I would. Wide eyes.
“Anyway”—Drew leans back in his chair, pushing his chest out, stretching—“I’ve got to make the most of it. Get to thirty-five and it’s a slippery slope down to a saggy arse and man boobs.” I frown and peek down my front. Is it? My arse cheeks, which I don’t mind saying, are like rocks, naturally tense. “I’ll think about a woman who loves me for me and not for my body when I need to,” he adds, relaxing again, looking around the table at the endless exasperation.