Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Byron groans.
“Don’t sweat it,” I say. “She just wants everyone to be as happy as the two of you are. It’s nice.”
“I know. But people have to find their own path, and it’s not like you’re going to come live in Star Falls forever, is it?”
I chuckle. “Unlikely. But I’m here for the next six weeks.”
“Well, Juney is… well, she grew up a lot since high school. As you know, until the Club, I hadn’t come back to Star Falls since leaving, so she could have become a serial killer in the intervening years. We’ve been in touch a little since I came back to town, but we don’t hang out a lot. But tell Rosey I told you she’s amazing.”
“Deal.”
We knock together our beer bottles and arrive at the back of the bar, where the pool table is. There are a few women gathered around, but Rosey and Juniper seem to have already started a game.
Rosey breaks and then turns to me and Byron. “Doubles?”
Rosey hooks her arm around Byron’s, leaving me and Juniper standing here and gazing at each other.
“You in?” I croon as I tilt my head toward Juniper.
She smiles and saunters past me, and I very happily follow.
I couldn’t have picked a prettier partner.
THREE
Juniper
Playing pool with Fisher was not what I had on my bingo card for tonight. He was the last person I was expecting to run into. After missing Byron’s party a couple of months back, I’d almost forgotten about him. Kinda. Not really.
“So, you here to catch up with Byron and Rosey?” I ask him.
He looks at me, and it’s almost like I can tell he’s imagining me naked. It’s kind of a dirty look. Like he’s thinking about sex. Or maybe I’m thinking about sex. I’m definitely thinking about sex. It’s impossible not to, being so close to Fisher.
“Yeah, and I’m here for work too.”
He’s tall, and his shirtsleeves are rolled up, showing bronzed skin pulled tight across muscled forearms. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed the forearms on a man, but Fisher’s are mesmerizing. He laughs, and it feels like I’m standing next to a log fire. He’s warm and comforting at the same time as being sexy as all holy hell.
“Work?” I ask. “What do you do?”
“I’m in the music business,” he explains. “I have an artist recording up at the Club.”
“Recording? Is there a studio up there?”
He nods.
“Oh, wow. I had no idea. How fun.”
He grins at me like I’ve said exactly the right thing, and I return his smile. He’s gorgeous. Perfect white teeth and blond hair that’s slightly wavy.
“Your turn,” Byron bellows across the room.
I jump in surprise. Fisher raises his eyebrows, still grinning.
“I guess it’s our turn,” he says.
“You go first,” I say, and not just because I want to see what his ass looks like in those jeans he’s wearing.
“You want to see what my ass looks like, don’t you?” Fisher asks.
Embarrassment sweeps up my body, and my eyes widen. “I do not!”
Fisher dissolves into laughter and knocks me with his elbow. “I’m kidding. Relax.” He takes my pool cue from me and heads over to the table.
I try and look everywhere apart from Fisher’s ass, but it’s difficult. I swear he chooses a shot that gives me a pretty good view of his backside. And it’s nice. Tight. Round. I hate a guy with no ass. And Fisher has plenty. He sinks two balls and then misses on the third.
“How was it?” he asks, grabbing his ass cheek.
“Not as nice as mine,” I deadpan.
He grins and nods. “I bet.”
Rosey misses her shot, so it’s me up next. When I pocket the green ball, my ass is facing away from Fisher. It’s a silent victory. I miss the blue, and I head back to my pool partner.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he asks. His accent makes him sound very formal.
“What?” I ask with a shrug. “Take a shot that had me leaning away from you? I don’t know what you mean.”
Fisher laughs, and I order another beer from Eva. Fisher mumbles something I’ve never heard of to Eva. He probably had some fancy beer shipped in especially or something.
“So, you live in New York even though you’re British?” I ask.
“My family came over when I was eight. So, I don’t feel British, even though I still have a trace of an accent.”
“A trace?” I laugh. “You sound like Prince William to me.”
“Oh, yeah?” he asks. “Well, I’m definitely not Prince William. What about you? You went to school with Byron?”
“High school, yeah. I was… different back then. I always had paint in my hair and all over my clothes. I was obsessed with art. It’s all I ever thought about.”
He looks at me, waiting for me to say more. When I don’t, he asks, “What changed?”