Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Sure, she’s hot as fuck in those black shorts. That sexy top. Those heels that make her legs look endless. And all that flesh I want to kiss, suck, bite.
But the dude is a cheater, and his eager eyes say he’d cheat again.
I loathe him to the end of time.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Skylar says, all sugary as she inches closer to me, her bare shoulder bumping my arm. I don’t hate that though—the contact.
Landon holds out his arms, asking her for a hug.
Oh hell no.
As guests mill about, sipping on champagne, checking out Trivial Pursuits and Twisters, I step forward, cutting off the potential hug like it’s a pass to the other team I’m stopping. I thrust the plant at Landon. “Here’s a store-opening gift for you.”
“Wow. A plant. This is amazing,” Landon says, taking it from me while still staring at Skylar.
She points to me. “This is my…date. Landon, this is Ford; Ford, Landon.”
Landon looks my way this time, then does a double take. “Aren’t you—?”
Skylar never mentioned her ex was a sports fan, but the way he’s gaping at me with fanboy recognition tells me he probably is.
But I’ll wait for him to make the connection.
“Ford Devon,” he says a second later, his eyes sparkling.
Landon sticks out his hand, and I take it, as a man with a well-groomed mustache and an affection for dapper clothes moves behind us, snapping a picture of the handshake. Probably the guy from the local neighborhood site. Skylar said he’d be here.
“That’s me,” I say, crunching Landon’s fingers. I’m a couple inches taller. My handshake is much stronger. I consider squeezing harder. Then I go for it. “Yes. I’m Ford.”
He winces, and a few satisfying seconds later I ease up, then let go.
After he blows out a relieved breath, he blurts out, “Holy shit! I love the Sea Dogs,” he says to Skylar. “You never told me you were dating a hockey star now.”
Not a player, but a star. Don’t hate that either.
“Well, we don’t talk now, Landon,” she says, with a saccharine smile.
“And that should change. I’m all about letting bygones be bygones,” he says like they’re both responsible for the fallout.
And sure, rationally, two people are in a relationship.
But fuck him. Just fuck him.
Before I can say you’re the bygone, asshole, a high-pitched gasp lands on my ears. Landon whirls around to meet the gaze of a blonde woman wearing gold-rimmed glasses. With wide, accusatory eyes, she’s pointing to a nearly empty tray of crudités on a table. “Landon, I told you to get more.”
“I told you to get more,” he tosses back.
Her eyes flare. “I told you. Don’t you remember?”
He sighs heavily. “Shoot. You’re right. Excuse me,” he says. Chastened, he cups her elbow and guides her to the back of the store.
Skylar turns to me, her eyes twinkling. “Trouble in paradise?”
“But not in fake paradise,” I whisper, and we didn’t plan this. Hell, we barely plotted anything besides the care and feeding of the pee plant, but I slide an arm around her waist.
Her breath hitches.
She moves against my hand like a cat, seeking touch, her back arching against my palm.
Here in the corner of her ex’s quirky shop, next to a stack of vintage Monopoly games, I angle my body close to my revenge fake date.
Tuck a strand of her red hair behind her ear.
Watch her lips part.
Drag my finger along her jawline.
Observe her fighting off a shudder.
Then, fuck it.
“We said it shouldn’t happen again, but that doesn’t include a kiss, does it?”
“It doesn’t,” she says, turning her face so her lips graze mine. It’s a teaser kiss but it’s hardly enough for me.
I press my fingers firmly on her back, kissing a little deeper till she opens for me. Yes. She tastes so good. I forget we’re in public, at a party, surrounded by guests.
Until someone bumps an elbow into my back, and we wrench apart.
“Sorry, man,” says a guy in skinny jeans and a plaid shirt.
“It’s all good,” I say, and the dude weaves past us to join a group in the corner of the store.
I try to clear the fog of that kiss from my head, but it’s hard with the way Skylar’s looking at me with glossy eyes that say she wants more. With a hungry tilt in her pretty lips. I’m about to toss her over my shoulder and say fuck that one-time thing when a throat clears from behind me.
I turn around.
My fists clench, reflexively. It’s Landon again, with the woman in glasses by his side. “This is Gretchen,” he says. “Just wanted to introduce everyone.”
“Oh, great! I was so hoping you would,” Skylar says, laying it on thick.
But Gretchen just offers a simpering smile, missing the sarcasm.
After the intros, Landon rocks back and forth, saying, “How did you meet?”