Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
The jerk hadn’t even gained a pooch or a pinch of fat anywhere.
“Who do you love?” he asked, eyes bright, the skin next to them crinkling.
“You,” I told him. “But also, your son.”
“Yeah? What’s he up to? Scaling a mountain in Nepal? Wrestling gators in Florida? Playing with creepy-crawlers in the rainforest?”
“In an airport about to fly home.”
“Wait… did I miss a holiday?” he asked, face a mask of genuine fear.
“No. No, he… he is going to prospect.”
“No shit,” Rook said, brows pinched, making me realize I wasn’t the only one who had never heard him talk about joining the club.
“For some reason, I feel like we should be, I don’t know, worried. Like, did he get himself into some sort of trouble and wants the protection of the club?”
“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “Wanna know what I bet?”
“What?” I asked as he reached for my hips, pulling me against him.
“If he’s in some sort of trouble, I bet there’s a woman in the center of it.”
“I want to object to that. From a feminist standpoint. But after decades of watching that be truer and truer in and around this club, I kind of just have to agree with you.”
“You were the best kind of trouble,” Rook assured me, pressing his forehead to mine.
“And you were the best fake husband ever.”