Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 90315 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90315 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“Oh my God.” I snort and then keep listening to this very explicit scene, and then she stops the playback. “I need that title, please. It’s going to the top of my list.”
“It’s a good one.” She winks and then leads me back downstairs. “Let’s sit on the couch and gossip some more. I want to know all about the famous people you’ve met. I’ll trade stories with you.”
“Have you met a lot of famous people too?”
“A few, because Ryker is a hockey legend. We sometimes attend functions for charities and stuff. You probably know all about that.”
“I’ve attended plenty of those things. I wish you’d been there. It would have been a lot more fun.”
“You know, the annual private concert is happening in Seattle just before Christmas for Ry and Gideon’s charity. They had to move it from summer because of a scheduling conflict this year. You and Gid should go.”
“I’m absolutely positive that the drill instructor will not let me off this ranch. He definitely won’t let me go to a fancy dinner with a bunch of people. No way. Not to mention, I might not be here by then.”
Her bottom lip pokes out in a pout.
“But now I want you there,” she says and pretends to cry, making me snort. “Okay, let’s gossip. Who’s the most famous person you’ve met? Besides your mom, because duh.”
It’s in this moment that I realize something alarming.
I really, really like Willow.
Chapter Eighteen
Gideon
“I’ll pop in to see Willow before I go back to the house,” I say as I pull up to the farmhouse and cut the engine.
“She’ll like that. She’s missed you,” Ry says as he climbs out of my truck, and we walk to the front door. “We both have. She’s mellowed out a lot since Lena got here. Calmed down. We’ve had some good talks.”
Nodding, I follow him inside, and we hear two women scream.
Without hesitation, I push Ryker behind me and run into the living room, ready to kill an intruder, and then stop short when I take in the scene before me.
There isn’t a rapist or murderer here, hurting my girls.
No, said girls are sitting on the floor, their backs against the sofa, laughing like lunatics.
Ryker steps up next to me and we both cross our arms over our chests, taking them in. Neither of the women has noticed that we’re here, and we share a grin.
Lena’s here. And it looks like she’s having fun.
“Five!” Lena says, trying to catch her breath. “I’ve only fucked five men . . .”
What in the actual fuck? I’d like to hunt down any asshole who’s had his hands on my girl and kill him. Slowly. Painfully.
“Same!” Willow exclaims, hopping up and down on her ass, and Ry growls next to me. Sounds like he shares my sentiments.
“Those five were a miracle,” Lena says, wiping tears from under her eyes. “Well, the first four, anyway. Because my security guys didn’t let men near me. It was like constantly having my dad with me.”
“She’s talking about you,” Ry mutters, and I shoulder check him, making him chuckle.
“You poor thing,” Willow says.
Poor thing, my ass.
“How did you even lose your virginity?”
“I was seventeen—”
“Nope,” I say, loud enough to get their attention. “I don’t need or want to hear this fucking story, Rebel.”
Both women blink at us, and then slowly smile.
“They’ve had sex with more than five girls,” Lena says to Willow, who nods in agreement. “Like, we could combine our numbers, and they’ve had sex with more than ten girls. Each.”
“I mean, look at ’em,” Willow says, gesturing up and down. “The muscles. The tattoos. The broody expressions on those faces.”
“The freaking chiseled jaws,” Lena continues. “How did they both hit the gene pool jackpot with those bodies?”
They’re drunk as fuck.
“And I know for a fact that Ryker’s fucked way more than ten,” Willow says as Ryker mutters fuck. “I’ve seen it firsthand.”
“What?” Lena screeches. “You watched them fuck other girls?”
“No. Ew. I would cut a bitch. Fuck that.” Willow shudders. “Someone sent me pictures of my husband fucking other women, and let me just say right now, you can’t get that shit out of your head.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Ryker mutters next to me. “We don’t need to talk about this.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Willow adds, slicing her hand through the air. She gets so aggressive with her arms when she’s drunk. “Someone was trying to blackmail him. Anyhoo, hi, guys!”
“Hi, guys,” Lena echoes, giving us a little wave. Her cheeks are rosy from the alcohol, her eyes a little glassy, and that long, dark hair is down around her shoulders. I want to wrap that hair in my hand and kiss the fuck out of her. “Want some wine?”
“How much wine have you had, baby?” I ask. I’ve changed my mind. I want to toss my girl over my shoulder and carry her home, so I don’t have so share her with anyone.