Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
She looks about old enough for Dallas.
I’m sure he’s noticed her. He doesn’t sleep alone, even if he likes to avoid their own women for fear he’ll get one pregnant and be stuck in the Bay forever.
He seems to have found purpose here, though. And he could never resist a pretty face. I take another swig, sweat trickling down my back.
I’ll bet he’s fucked everybody.
“I’m game,” Vincent replies.
It takes me a moment to remember what Milo wanted to do. Patrol.
I watch him shoot his ball, but it doesn’t even make it off the fairway. He’s fucking drunk already.
I hear Aleida uncap another beer. “Do it Friday night,” I tell Milo.
“I’m going to the Wolfe Room Friday night.”
“And they know that,” I fire back, “which is why they’ll be trying to move then.”
Beer Cart Girl hands Vincent his Dos Equis just before Milo takes her by the waist and presses into her, forcing her to back up. “You know what I like.”
She rolls her eyes and pushes away, but he hauls her back in. She bares her teeth, hitting him in the chest.
“Plus, I’m playing in the Wolfe Room Friday night,” I add. “I want my pick.”
Milo’s attention falters, and he releases her, turning to me. “I can’t be there?”
I eye him sternly. “It’s my turn.”
I don’t want the distraction, and I don’t want competition.
At least, that’s the message I’m sending.
He lifts his brows, walking away. “Got it.”
Really, I just want Dallas to myself, without my friends’ interference. Or observation.
“Hey, give us a beer, honey,” someone calls out.
Jerome Watson strolls up, his cart parked next to ours. A man with dark hair, a little taller than him, follows.
Jerome holds out his hand to me. “How’s it going?”
We shake. “Thought you were busy today,” I say.
We had invited him, but he has a real job, unlike us.
Plus, it’s fucking hot.
He nods, gazing toward the green. “I was,” he tells me. “Just brought my friend in for lunch.”
Jerome moves aside, pointing to each of us. “This is Vincent Law,” he tells the guy, who goes around and shakes hands. “Milo Price, and…” They turn to me, the man closing the distance a couple of steps and locking eyes with me. “This is Callum Ames,” Jerome says.
We shake, his hazel eyes unblinking, his hand holding mine until I feel a dip in my stomach.
“This is Micah Hearst,” Jerome tells us. “A buddy from college.”
He looks like he wants to smile, but it’s only in his eyes. “Hi.”
I swallow. “Hi.”
Finally, we let go, and I take a deep breath. That’s the friend Jerome wanted to introduce me to. Fuck, not now.
“Micah owns Sotherly House and the Lord Hotel,” Jerome announces.
“Nice.” Vincent bobs his head. “A big fan of the State Suite.”
Milo chuckles. “And the discreet entrance for playmates.”
Micah shakes his head, but the smile is there. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he teases.
I take a drink as I let my eyes fall down his body. Long, toned legs in off-white pants, like me, and muscular arms in an ocean-blue shirt. Dark hair, tanned skin, everything manicured. His haircut, his nails, the alterations of his clothes.
Women look at him before they look at me, only he doesn’t like women, Jerome had said.
“But um…come anytime you want,” Micah tells everyone, a taunting smile on his lips as he focuses on me. “I’ll set you up with all the fun you can handle.”
The innuendo in his words is clear, and warmth sinks below my stomach to my groin. Dallas used to look at me like that. For about two seconds.
If this guy went to school with Jerome, he has to be about thirty-five. We’re not in the same place in life—I may still go to grad school—so there’d be no question of what we wanted from each other. Which is good.
“Anything else, gentlemen?” the girl asks us, and I notice everyone has their drinks.
I dig in my pocket for my money clip to tip her, but Milo waves me off.
“I got it.”
He walks back to her cart and she follows.
Micah stands next to me, both of us watching Jerome line up his shot.
“We’ve got a nice beach at Sotherly House,” Micah says, his tone smooth. “You like the water?”
Heat rolls off of him, his scent like something you want to sink into and never leave. It’s not just fucking soap.
But I reply, “Not in June.”
Even the water feels like soup this time of year.
“We got a nice spa, too.” He flashes me a half grin. “You like massages?”
My heart pumps a little harder, and I drop my eyes, releasing a laugh because whatever he’s doing is hitting. Maybe an older man is just what I need.
“Oh, shit,” Vincent laughs. “Milo!”
We all turn, and I see the girl bottomless with her shirt pulled up above her tits and her back to us as she leans into her cart with her legs spread. The top of Milo’s head is just visible as he goes down on her.