Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
King stands, clapping Penn on the back as we reach the table and then holds out his hand to me. “You must be Mila. It’s great to finally meet you.”
Before I can reply, Willa is there, giving me a quick hug, even though I saw her no more than thirty minutes ago. “Long time, no see,” she chirps, and I can’t help but laugh.
We settle into the booth, me on the inside with Penn sitting so close, our thighs touch. A waitress appears and we all order beers.
We lapse into easy conversation, the heaviness of the last few days momentarily pushed aside. It’s a relief to sit here, surrounded by laughter and lighthearted banter, without the weight of secrets or the looming threat hanging over me and Penn. I feel the tension slowly draining from his body, his shoulders less rigid, his jaw not clenched so tight. He’s relaxed in a way I hadn’t imagined possible, and it makes my heart ache a little. Penn deserves this—this carefree moment where he can just be without constantly watching his back or walling himself off from people.
And for me… it’s a glimpse into what life could be like if we manage to come out of all this unscathed. I’m not ready to let go of that feeling just yet. I lean in, eager to soak up the moment with new friends and maybe a meaningful relationship with a man I admire.
Willa’s laughter bubbles up over the thrum of bar chatter around us. “Okay, I’ve got one,” she says, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “What’s your guilty pleasure TV show or movie? And don’t you dare lie, Penn. I know you’ve got one.”
Penn, sitting beside me, lifts an eyebrow, leaning back against the booth with a cocky smirk. “Why do I feel like I’m about to be ambushed?”
“Because you are,” King replies with a grin, taking a sip of his beer. “Spill it.”
Penn’s lips twitch, and I brace myself, already knowing whatever he says is going to surprise the hell out of me. “Fine.” He exhales heavily, as if this is a confession he’s been holding on to for years. “I normally just watch ESPN, but I do have one guilty pleasure on TV.”
“What is it?” Willa presses.
His face flushes. “The Bachelor.”
I blink. “Wait… what?”
Willa’s jaw drops. “You? Mr. Hockey-Is-Life Navarro watches The Bachelor?”
“Only the finales,” he mutters, suddenly very interested in the condensation dripping down his beer glass. “I don’t sit through the whole damn season, but I gotta know who wins.”
King nearly chokes on his drink. “You bet on it, don’t you?”
Penn doesn’t even look guilty. “Occasionally.” He shrugs. “What can I say? I like a little action.”
Willa bursts out laughing. “I’m dead. I would’ve bet my next paycheck you’d say something like Breaking Bad or Yellowstone.”
“Those are solid shows,” Penn says, tipping his glass toward her, “but they don’t have the same… drama.”
“I’m never going to let you live this down,” I tease, bumping his shoulder with mine. “Penn Navarro, closet romantic.”
“Hey.” He points a finger at me, eyes narrowing playfully. “Let’s not throw stones, Mila. I bet you’ve got something just as embarrassing.”
My cheeks warm, but I lift my chin, owning it. “Hallmark Christmas movies.”
King groans. “Oh God.”
“Don’t judge!” I laugh, holding up a hand. “They’re comforting. You always know how they’ll end, and sometimes, a predictable happy ending is exactly what I need.”
“Respect.” Willa nods solemnly. “Nothing wrong with a little cheesy romance.”
King gives her a skeptical look. “And what’s your guilty pleasure?”
Willa doesn’t hesitate. “Bridgerton.”
“Of course,” King mutters, shaking his head like he should’ve known. “All those corsets and scandal.”
“Scandal keeps things interesting,” Willa says with a wink.
“All right, King,” I chime in, leaning on the table. “Your turn.”
King shifts uncomfortably. “The Walking Dead.”
“Bullshit,” Penn drawls, narrowing his eyes. “Come on, man. Out with it.”
A muscle ticks in King’s jaw before he finally grumbles, “Emily in Paris.”
Willa’s mouth drops open, and I clap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. “You watch Emily in Paris?”
“Willa started it,” King mumbles, his ears going red. “And now… I’m invested.”
Penn lets out a whistle. “I did not see that coming.”
“Damn, King,” I tease, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. “I thought you were going to say Top Gun or something.”
“Yeah, yeah,” King mutters, but his lips twitch. “Laugh it up.”
Willa leans in, her expression turning devious. “Speaking of The Walking Dead… if the zombie apocalypse hits tomorrow, what’s your plan?”
The question shifts the entire vibe of the table, the mood turning contemplative because this is serious business. Having a solid game plan is the key to survival.
“Oh, that’s easy.” King straightens, confidence radiating from him. “I’m commandeering a yacht and heading out to sea. Zombies can’t swim. I’ll fish, drink beer, and wait for the world to reset.”