Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
I giggled for three hours when I was sketching floor plans. I was teasing and doing it during coloring time. I drew a castle with a tower—okay, a couple of towers. A girl needs her options. Then I tossed in a moat, turrets, and a drawbridge.
Now we live in it, our three boys running through the halls, and I have learned that moats are excellent for keeping deer away from the gardens and terrible for keeping boys from finding trouble.
“You look like you’re planning something,” Teddy says, sliding into the booth across from me. She’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt that says I Survived the Monarchy and All I Got Was This Lousy Shirt. Julian sent it. He thinks he’s funny. He has his moments, but that’s all to do with the special woman in his life.
“I am planning something,” I say. “I’m planning to drink this margarita and then another one.”
“And then?”
“And then I might dance.”
Teddy grins. “You know he’s already pacing and you’re going to dance in that dress?” She takes a sip of her cocktail. “I approve of this plan.” Her mouth forms that little smirk she wears when we’ve hatched a plan that we know is going to drive our men mad.
“He’s not pacing. He’s monitoring security feeds.”
“Same thing.”
We clink our glasses together. I’m sure Killian is doing the same when it comes to Teddy.
Roland is watching all the kids tonight. The slumber party was his idea, though he’d never call it that. “Training exercise,” he said. “They’ll learn perimeter security and how to precisely polish a glass.” The kids think it’s a game. Roland thinks it’s life preparation. Tristan said it’s free babysitting.
I take another sip of my margarita. It’s too sweet, but the third one always is.
The bartender appears with the tray of shots, dropping off two for Teddy and me. I ordered a round for the whole bar. That might be what I’m actually up to.
“Tequila all around,” I shout as they keep dropping off the shots to everyone. It’s a weeknight, so the bar isn’t crazy, but there is a nice crowd.
The shots get poured. The couple in the corner raises theirs in thanks. Even the bartender pours one for himself. I climb onto my chair, not as steady as I thought I was, but I’ve got a shot in one hand, making it harder. I clear my throat loudly.
“You can’t knight everyone in here,” Teddy informs me. Of course I could, but not tonight.
“As a princess,” I announce over the music, “my royal decree was that girls’ night would be mandatory and that whoever let me drink tequila shots on an empty stomach would be thrown in the dungeon.” I raise my glass higher, looking around at the small crowd. “Unfortunately, I was the one who let me, so now you’re all accomplices.”
Teddy whoops and lifts her shot, ready to go down with me. The couple laughs and raises theirs. The bartender shrugs and holds his up. Everyone else does too, with a few chuckles. No one in this town is unfamiliar with Teddy and me at this point.
“So this toast,” I continue, “is to bad decisions, good friends, and husbands who—”
The door slams open, cutting off my speech. How rude but also exciting.
I don’t have to look. The air changes, the way it always does when he enters a room. Danger and safety and most definitely sex all mixed together to make my favorite cocktail of them all: my husband with a side of possessive obsession. I turn, still standing on my chair, shot glass in hand, and there he is.
My Tristan. Black shirt, sleeves rolled up, showing his forearms, no jacket. He’s been in the parking lot with Killian. Guarding, he calls it. Stalking, I call it. Same thing.
“Drink,” I yell, quickly tipping my glass back as Tristan heads straight for me. “My warden is here, and to the dungeon I must go!” Everyone shoots their shots before starting to hoot and holler. Tristan stops right in front of me. For once I’m taller than him.
He looks up at me, and I see exactly what he’s going to do a second before he does it. The shot glass falls from my hand, forgotten, shattering somewhere on the floor.
Tristan bends, shoulder to my stomach, and tosses me over him as if I were weightless. I shriek, laughing, the room tilting upside down as my hair falls toward the floor.
The dungeon might have a king-size bed and high thread count sheets, but my warden’s caveman tactics are definitely my favorite part of the end of girls’ night.
“Put me down!” I fake that I’m offended and appalled.
“Quiet.”
His hand comes down on my ass, and I let out a gasp. It slides down, clamping over the back of my thighs to press my short dress down, covering me before anyone can see anything.