Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
She winks and turns her attention to Rix, who thinks everything on the menu sounds good.
And just like the last time we were at a restaurant, I end up constantly passing things to Essie.
She leans in, fingers dragging along my forearm. “Can you pass me your balls?”
I quirk a brow. “They’re not detachable.”
Her nose wrinkles and she tips her head, pointing with one pretty nail to the dish on my left. “The chicken balls, Nathan.”
“That’s not what you said,” I grumble and pass her the plate.
“I think your mind is in the gutter,” she whispers.
“I wonder why.” But maybe I am hearing things.
She crosses her legs under the table, and her bare foot slides up the back of my calf and rests there. “Where are you boys headed after this?” she asks the table.
The guys look to me. “Nate is keeping the itinerary under wraps,” Tristan notes.
“It’s staying that way, too.” I side-eye Essie.
I won’t be able to handle Essie in this dress, at a club, being hit on.
After dinner, the girls head up to their rooms to get ready for their night out. I need a minute to come down from the overstimulation of sitting next to Essie and not being able to kiss the knowing smirk off her face. I convince the guys to go to the hotel bar for drinks and not follow them up to their rooms.
“We should play a drinking game.” If I get good and wasted, I might not cave and send Essie late-night messages asking for all the things she’s been texting me today.
“What are we doing tomorrow?” Tristan asks.
“I’m not telling you until tomorrow.” I don’t trust him or any of the other guys not to blab to their girlfriends and wives.
“What about a hint?” Roman asks.
“No hints.”
“What time do we have to be awake?” Flip asks.
“We won’t leave the hotel until eleven.” I planned it so we could have fun tonight and not regret it too much tomorrow.
The bartender arrives with drinks.
“Okay. How about a round of Never Have I Ever? I’ll go first.” It’s been ages since I’ve played a drinking game. “Never have I ever gone more than a year without sex.” I take a swig of my beer.
“Wait, you drank. Does that mean you have or haven’t gone more than a year without sex?” Flip asks.
“I have gone without it.”
“We’ve all gone without sex for more than a year if you count all the years prior to losing our virginity,” Dallas says.
“I mean in the last decade,” I clarify.
Both Roman and Hollis drink, then side-eye each other. It must be really fucking weird to have your best friend in a relationship with your daughter.
“You’ve gotten action since you and Lisa broke up, haven’t you?” Tristan asks.
“Of course.” I scoff. I don’t need to tell him it only happened recently, or that it was a handy provided by Rix’s best friend. There was one night at a bar just after Lisa and I broke up, but it ended badly, and there was definitely no sex. I’m just glad I moved back to Toronto, so I’ll never run into that woman again.
Flip frowns. “Really? Because you’ve been living with me for almost a year, and I’m pretty sure you’ve never gone on a date or brought anyone home.”
“You’re on the road half the year. You don’t know what happens when you’re gone.”
“Yeah, but Dred would tell me if you brought someone home. She worries about you, honey bear.”
“This is supposed to be a drinking game, not a psychoanalyze-Nate game,” I snap. “Tristan. Your turn.”
“Check out this picture of a mousse cake in the shape of a peach Bea just sent me.” He shows the table his phone.
“Dude, this is supposed to be a boys’ weekend.” I slap the table to get their attention. “Put your freaking phones away! You can handle a few hours of separation from your girlfriends and wives.” I make meaningful eye contact with everyone, then check my watch. “We should hit the club.” Hopefully that will distract these guys enough to keep them off their phones and in the freaking moment.
Flip pays the tab, and we finish our drinks, then head to the club—conveniently attached to our hotel—where I’ve reserved table service.
The bass is pumping, forcing us to yell over the music to hear each other. The dance floor is crowded with gyrating bodies. We climb the stairs to the VIP lounge, and I’m hit with a wave of emotion.
Annoyance is the first thing to wash through me, followed by unsettling relief. Because sitting front and center are the girls. And in the middle of them is Essie.
As much as I don’t want them to keep hijacking our weekend, I also don’t love the idea of them partying it up without a bodyguard or two. Sure, they can handle themselves, but I feel infinitely better knowing we’re here as backup.