Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
With a deep sigh, Luca plants himself down. “You sure know how to show a dude a good time.”
I giggle.
“Hey guys, I’m Ranger Mike. Welcome to the Rainforest.” The bartender suddenly appears, introducing himself, leaning against the bar top. Slaps down two coasters and two menus. “I’ll be back in a second to take your order.”
Luca immediately picks up a menu, squinting at the laminated page. “Why is every drink named after a wild animal?”
I roll my eyes, snatching his menu because he doesn’t deserve to hold it if he’s going to mock our options. “Because everybody loves a theme, obviously. Do you want the Python Punch? Or maybe the Tiger’s Tonic?” I gasp. “Oh! The Giraffe Guzzle!”
He laughs. “That sounds obscene.”
I nod, closing the menu. “It does. We’re ordering it.”
“Are we sharing already?”
My heart flutters. “Sure, why not. They’re twelve dollars.”
His eyes get wide. “Twelve dollars?” He grabs the menu again, scanning the page. “Why is it so fucking expensive?”
“The cup glows,” I inform him. “And we get to keep it! Think of it this way; you can hand it down to your future kids one day. It’s a family heirloom.”
“Do you mean OUR future kids one day?” he quips back and I look down at my menu, not wanting to let him see how much that affected me.
Thankfully Ranger Mike reappears to save me from THAT statement, and we order the Giraffe Guzzle and a side of his favorite—dinosaur chicken nuggets with a side of ranch for dipping.
Satisfied, Luca stretches his long legs out. The oversized bar is dimly lit, glowing jungle lanterns casting weirdly dramatic shadows over his sharp features.
God, he’s hot.
Too hot, honestly. The kind of hot that makes a girl do stupid things, like stare too long at his mouth or wonder what it would feel like to tug on the hoodie strings currently dangling near his chest.
But I’m cool. Completely unfazed.
So, naturally, I blurt out, “You’re really big.”
Luca’s brows lift, and my brain immediately malfunctions. “Big?”
Oh my God, I didn’t mean it like that! I wasn’t implying that he has a big dick!
That was not an innuendo.
And yes, he’s attractive—annoyingly so. Built like a goddamn wall, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his hoodie, long legs sprawled out because they have nowhere else to go. I’m not just checking him out, I’m noticing everything about him.
Objectively.
Like any normal woman would do.
“I mean—” I scramble to recover, waving my hands like that’ll somehow erase the words hanging between us. “You take up a lot of space. Physically.”
His lips twitch, amusement flickering across his face, but he doesn’t let me off the hook. “You checking me out?”
“No,” I lie instantly, grateful yet again for Ranger Mike and his impeccable timing as he places a monstrosity of a beverage down in front of us. Giant goblet. Two orange straws sticking out. Pineapple chunks loaded onto a skewer. And a palm leaf. “I just noticed.”
His smirk grows, full of something smug and teasing, and I hate that it sends an embarrassing flutter through my chest.
“Thanks.”
I roll my eyes, reaching for the drink just to give my hands something to do, pulling out the palm leaf so I can get my face close enough to sip from it. “You must really love yourself.”
He grins. “Somebody’s got to.”
His tone gives me pause. Somebody’s got to? What does that mean?
I slide the drink toward him.
Watching as he takes a sip of our ridiculous neon drink, I study his jaw as it flexes, my eyes fastened to his Adam’s apple as he swallows.
Yum.
It’s stupid, but for whatever reason the words sit heavy in my chest. Luca Babineaux doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who doubts himself—not even a little. He’s always laughing, always charming, always…
Nice.
He walks into rooms like he owns them, plays hockey like it’s second nature, talks like he’s never second-guessed a single word that’s come out of his mouth.
As I open my mouth to reply, his posture straightens, eyes flicking over my shoulder toward one of the many jungle-shaped televisions mounted above the bar.
“Huh.” He nods toward the screen. “Preseason hockey recaps. Can’t believe the season’s starting soon.”
I turn, glancing at the TV.
Highlights from a recent game play in slow motion—a player from an opposing team slams into the boards, a crisp pass, a goal celebration with gloves tossed high in the air.
“You ready for it?” I ask, shifting back to him.
Luca hums, rolling his shoulders. “As ready as I can be. We’ve got a solid lineup this year, it’s gonna be a grind.”
I nod. “Gio says the same thing.” Taking a sip of our drink, my lips purse when the yellow liquid hits my tongue.
Luca snorts. “Gio says a lot of things.”
I laugh. “Fair point.”
He smirks, resting his elbow on the bar. “Speaking of, does your brother know you’re here with me right now?”