Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
That was a healthy attitude.
I gave his hand a squeeze. “You guys will figure it out.”
He squeezed back. “You know it.”
I so did.
FYI: Knox’s doctors were surprised at how well he was doing. They cleared him for light work and to drive. Though, they did give him some stick for not using his sling for the whole two weeks.
FYI Part 2: I phoned this into Marjorie personally. She sounded pleased with this information, but only grudgingly so. The grudge went out when I told her the docs had words about the sling.
But now, she’d stop giving Knox shit.
So that was something.
That evening, I walked into my place to be confronted with a happy dog who was dragging a new rawhide to me to say hi (Knox had his truck back and that rawhide meant that Knox had done what Knox loved to do: he went to the grocery store), along with a hot guy on my sofa.
I went to the sofa and handed Knox the bag I was carrying and the paper cup.
“Cheeseburger, tots and chocolate malt from the diner,” I said.
“Love of my life,” he replied, sitting up to sort his dinner.
Rather than me doing an encore of my “Walking on Sunshine” routine, I let his comment wash over me in a happy way then turned to pick up my puppers. His rawhide dropped, I got licks, he got cuddles, and so Knox wouldn’t have a French bulldog up in his business while he was eating, dog and dog mom sat in an armchair.
“How was dinner with the girls?” Knox asked while dumping his tots on his burger paper and before going to his sachets of ketchup.
“Jinx and Noah are fighting.”
Knox squirted ketchup and looked to me at the same time. “That’s not good.”
“It’s totally good. They use it so they can have makeup sex.”
His mouth quirked and he went for another sachet.
I got him a lot of them. I had ketchup, but I couldn’t remember how much I had. I just remembered Knox was a drencher when it came to fried things you dip.
“They’re fighting now about her house. She’s renting it so she can pay for her schooling with it. He wants to let a management company oversee it. She wants to do it herself.”
“That shit’s a pain in the ass.”
“So when you rent your place?”
“Totally management company,” he said.
Good to know.
Though, managing a property had the word “managing” in it, and we both knew how we felt about that.
“Big news, Duane and Lotus are officially an item. They’re moving in together. And now they’re fighting.”
He looked at me. “Lotus?”
“Do you know the girls?”
“Only by sight.”
“White. Brunette. Fake boobs. Belly-button piercing.”
“Haven’t looked at their tits or their stomachs,” Knox said, grabbing his burger and taking a man bite, which meant a quarter of it was in his mouth.
Yeesh.
Dudes.
But I was intrigued.
“You haven’t looked at their tits?”
He chewed, swallowed and shared, “I’ll check out a woman I’m interested in fucking. But I look at her face first.”
“Ah.”
“Why are they fighting? Her job?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. Surprisingly, Duane is cool with her continuing to service her clients. As long as she does it in his hotel so he can make sure she’s safe. Which shocked us all because that’s just shocking, the okay with the sex with other dudes part, and sweet, which Duane really isn’t.”
“No shit?” he asked. “About the sex stuff.”
“No shit,” I answered. “They’re fighting because he’s had his house painted, he put in his new IKEA kitchen, and now she wants them to turn their attention to the master bath. He has a little money left over from the paintjob the Russians kinda, sorta paid for, and she has some socked away.”
“He should give her a bathroom,” Knox said immediately.
And there was why it didn’t gross me out he bit off a quarter of a burger in one go.
“We all said that. He said we were ganging up on him. We told him that would happen when he sat down to dinner with thirteen women. He conceded the point about the ganging up. But not about the bathroom.”
“He’ll cave.”
I hoped so.
“Also, Raye got word that her stepsister’s getting a divorce.”
His brows flew up. “Didn’t she only get married a few months ago?”
“Apparently, the guy is a clown. Everyone knew it but Brittany. But I guess he let that flag unfurl fully when he had her legally bound to him.”
“Fucker,” Knox said while drenching tots.
“And Stella’s hired Harlow to organize her closet.”
“She’s good at that shit,” he muttered.
He would know. He’d help Cap install the system Harlow designed in Cap and Raye’s apartment.
“We might lose her to it,” I told him. “She and Javi are talking about setting her up with an organization business.”
His eyes came to me. “That what she wants?”
“She loves doing it.”