Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“Thank you!” Margot pats her hair and twirls a long wave around her finger. “She ran her hands over my hair like I was a dog she wanted to adopt from the pound.”
Shelby’s eyes go wide. “She petted you?”
Rooster frowns at me and I shrug.
Shelby gives her a reassuring squeeze. “She won’t try that again. Not if I’m around.”
Margot’s lips curl into a wicked expression. “What if she wants us to have a threesome with her.” She wags her fingers between herself and Shelby but she’s staring up at me. “For the ‘visual contrast’ and all.”
Shelby snort-giggles. “Lordy, my PR gal would murder me.”
Rooster clears his throat.
Shelby narrows her eyes at him. “You know good and damn well where I stand on such matters.”
Margot’s eyes widen. She flicks a look my way, then turns to Rooster. “Jensen neatly dodged a question earlier. Maybe you can help me out, Rooster?”
Sensing where this is going, I straight-up glare at Rooster to keep his mouth shut.
Ignoring my death-stare, he grins at her. “Anything. Ask away, Margot.”
She curls her finger, inviting him to lean closer. “Before I came into the picture, is that the sort of thing Jigsaw would do at these parties?” She jerks her chin toward the pool table where Grip and Brew have switched places and Kristen’s now screaming around Brew’s cock.
Shelby bursts into giggles and claps her hand over her mouth.
Rooster flashes a payback’s-a-bitch grin my way. “Absolutely not,” he answers in a grave tone that doesn’t quite hit a sincere note.
“Uh-huh.” Margot side-eyes me.
“Girl, come with me.” Shelby links her arm through Margot’s. “We’ll be right back,” she tosses over her shoulder.
Taking Margot by the hand, Shelby expertly weaves through the crowd, keeping Margot close behind her. Shelby’s a good friend. I trust her to look out for Margot.
This motherclucker in front of me, though.
I slam my palm against Rooster’s shoulder, shoving him. “You couldn’t have just worked some sincerity into the word ‘no,’ asshole?”
“Be thankful I didn’t tell her you were a virgin before you met her.” He cocks his head, inviting me to remember the snarky answer I gave Shelby the time she asked me a similar question when they first started getting serious.
“Point taken.” I dip my chin in apology. I cast a worried glance down the hallway. “What do you think Shelby’s gonna tell her?”
Rooster strokes his hand over his chin. “Probably that you’re a deviant fuckboy? Maybe how you tried to nail all the groupies when we were out on the road? Your MILF theory? Don’t know. Could be anything.”
Not liking any of those options.
“Shelby wouldn’t do that to me.” I wish I felt as confident as I made that statement sound.
“No, she wouldn’t. She likes Margot too much to hurt her feelings.” He leans in closer. “She likes you two together.”
“Good.” I jam my hands in my pockets. “I like us together too.”
Rooster bumps his shoulder into mine. “Then don’t fuck it up. You’re in control of your destiny.”
The way he says it sounds more like “you’re in control of your dick.”
Which I am.
But damn, did he make some bad past decisions.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Margot
The few sips of champagne I took have me lightheaded, feeling like a balloon bobbing along as Shelby grips my hand tight and leads me through the crowd.
Her emerald-green dress clings to her curves, shimmering with hundreds of beads and sequins that swing with every step—like a modern-day flapper gone glam, hypnotizing me as she pulls me into a long hallway. Although they’re dim, at least the lights are a normal color at this end of the clubhouse. The hellish red was starting to give me a headache.
She turns to the left and some of the noise from the party mercifully fades.
“Phew, that’s better!” Shelby slows her pace. “Sorry it took me so long to get my makeup done. Serena did Hope and Emily first. But if I’d known you were gettin’ propositioned by Stella, I would’ve come an’ grabbed ya sooner.”
“It’s okay.”
She releases my hand and stops in front of a door. I glance up and down the corridor, noting several doors. Some have little plaques tacked to the wall outside. The one we’re standing in front of says Sergeant-at-Arms.
“Knock, knock!” Shelby taps her knuckles against the door twice, then three times, then once. “So she knows it’s me.” She tugs at a fob dangling from a stretchy band around her wrist, presses it to a pad near the door. The lock clicks and Shelby twists the handle.
The door swings open, revealing a spacious bedroom. The tall blonde I only met briefly the night of the bonfire hurries toward us, motioning for us to come inside. In her hand, she’s holding an iPad with a video of a cute, chubby baby on the screen. She’s flawlessly made up—hair in a low, sleek ponytail and full makeup—but still wearing a button-down shirt and loose shorts. Goodness, it’s not the lighting that makes her so pretty in her makeup videos. Even in the harsh light of the room, Serena’s stunning in person.