Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Cassie sighs. “You’re not playing fair.”
“I never do,” I tease, nipping at her neck.
Dramatically, she reaches for the bedroom. “I love this future. I want to time travel to it right now.”
“We can,” I say enticingly, letting my hand drift down to cup one of her tits. “Say the word, and I’ll text Silvan that we can’t make it.”
“No,” she says, giving herself the boost she needs and pulling away from me. “I told Sophie I’d be there. She’s counting on me. And you,” she says, lightly accusing. “You promised you’d help me save the world if I wanted to. Stop tempting me to abandon my mission, you… you…”
I tug her back. “Wonderful future husband?”
“I was going to say dastardly villain, but I do like that better.” She grins as she leans against me, wanting so hard to give in, but she rallies and pulls away. “No, I have to be strong. You can fuck the sense out of me later, but right now, we’re going to make a difference.”
So, we do.
Everything is pretty much set up by the time we get there. There was never any plan to set up last night. That was just my excuse to get her on campus, but there are tables set up now, ice chests and lemonade dispensers on top with little white cups on either side. It’s a honey pot setup. The girls plan to lure in passing students and faculty with friendly smiles and free lemonade, then ask them to sign their petition and support the cause.
We’re here for event security, just in case some ill-mannered asshole looks at one of our girls wrong. We aren’t expecting any trouble, but we wouldn’t leave it to chance. Our presence alone should be enough to keep things friendly, but I already clock a few confused looks from guys who know us by reputation alone, who see Sophie Koch organizing a petition against a project her father-in-law stands to profit from directly, and her ruthless husband, sole heir to the family fortune, here supporting her attempt to disrupt his plans. From a strictly fiscal standpoint, it doesn’t make sense, but the girls are more considerate of the human side of things. Or, in Sophie’s case, the cows’ side of things.
To a guy who isn’t in love with one of them, or whose narrow view of the world is limited to black and white, I’m sure it looks strange. Our women are marching around campus with signs that essentially boil down to “sign here to inconvenience the motherfuckers!” And we, the motherfuckers, are standing guard making sure no one forgets to smile while they sign their name.
The message is a little mixed, to be sure. But all of us here—except maybe Hex, who hasn’t found his other half yet—know the harmony of having that balance in our lives. If we didn’t have caring partners to complement us and occasionally get in our way, who knows what kind of monsters we might turn into.
My gaze drifts, tracking the guys who are already here. Killian is helping with setup. Silvan is, too. Hex has set himself up away from the tables in a chair with a view so he can watch the girls work. I watch Addison bring him a cup of our girlfriends’ lemonade—which he doesn’t deserve because he’s definitely not going to sign their petition.
Hex notices us approaching first. He offers a slight nod of acknowledgment before he takes a drink. “Are you laboring or watching the show?”
“We’re pretty much set up,” Addison says before I can answer, shoving a packet of paper beneath the clip of a pink sparkly clipboard. “We just need to give our girlies the run-through.”
“That’s my cue,” Cassie whispers with a mischievous look in my direction.
Reluctantly, I drop her hand and let her go to join her friends. I wait for mine by Hex. “You bring more of those chairs?”
He shakes his head. “Every man for himself, I’m afraid.”
“I could use some help,” one of the girls says from the table, meeting my gaze with a hopeful wave.
Hex shoots me a look of private amusement, and I sigh, but I walk over to her table anyway. “What do you need, Vanessa?”
She flashes me a smile she hopes is charming and grabs one of the cups next to her lemonade dispenser. As she fills it up, she says, “I’ve never made homemade lemonade before. Can you taste mine and tell me if it’s sweet enough?”
I don’t like the way she uses those words, but Vanessa has thrown herself at every available—or, in her mind, potentially available—guy in my friend group, so it’s not surprising. “Sure,” I say, taking the cup from her.
Rather than drink it myself, I go over and grab Cassie mid-conversation and bring her to Vanessa’s table.
“What are we doing?” Cassie asks as I position her in front of me. Her gaze drops to the cup in my hand, her brow furrowing ever so slightly in confusion.