Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Yes, for when we do our trash puzzle.”
He tips his beer bottle against my champagne flute. It’s a friendly enough moment, sealing a deal. But I’m studying his jaw, and his eyes are lingering on my face, and I swear, there’s some new charge between us. I hardly know what to make of it.
It’s a little thrilling, but a little terrifying too.
As the clock ticks near eleven, I’ve had a few glasses of bubbly. I’ve won a few hands of poker, or maybe blackjack. Possibly both.
Carter’s hanging with his brother at the table next to ours, and he gives me a chin nod as he checks his cards.
I smile back, then I up the ante in my poker game, sliding another chip into the pot. I shimmy in my seat, my free-range boobs shaking under my sparkly get-up. This dress is like magic. I feel better after my fiasco of a day.
“I’ll raise myself by another chip,” I declare.
The dealer—a square-jawed guy with a mustache that might be sexy in an “are mustaches sexy” way but also might not—laughs gently. “I’m not sure poker works that way.”
“Aww, c’mon, Scotty. Let her,” Juliet encourages him. Or, more like demands.
The dealer slowly shifts his gaze back to me, licking his lips as he says, “Sure, I’ll let it slide for you,” he says, keeping his eyes locked on me.
Oh.
Is he flirting with me?
It’s been a while, but I’m pretty sure that’s flirting.
As he deals, I tuck my face closer to Juliet’s. “Is Scotty flirting with me? And…do I like him?”
She laughs. “I don’t know, Rach. Do you?”
I shrug. Hard to say. The bubbly in me likes the flirting, that’s for sure. “Flirting is enjoyable,” I say.
She high-fives me. “See? I told you the party would be fun.”
“It is dirty, flirty fun,” I say, smacking back. Everything is fun. Everything is festive.
Elodie meets my gaze from next to Juliet. “Speaking of fun, you never answered my question from earlier…”
I arch a brow. “Oh, you want to know how the Man-inator is?”
Juliet snort-laughs. “Yes, do tell us. But please use its proper name. The Man-inator is seriously gross.”
I square my shoulders, acting all proper. “If you must know, I was going to break out the Girl’s Best Friend tonight.”
Scotty’s gaze snaps back to mine. He looks away to deal, but I think he’s still listening. A perk of the job, I suppose, dealing cards at a party full of the buzzed and horny.
“So we’re cramping your style with the PJ party?” Elodie asks with a cute little grin. “Or wait. Were you going to slip into my bathroom and use it?” She lets her jaw fall open, comically wide. “Rachel, you bad girl. Did you smuggle it here in your purse?”
“Shut up. I am not going to diddle myself at your house.” Primly I add, “I have standards.”
Scotty smiles, then waves a hand in front of his face. Oh yes, he is definitely listening.
“Only home diddling for this classy babe,” Elodie chimes in as Scotty clears his throat.
With a nod at my card, he asks, “What have you got?”
An ache between my thighs.
Oh, right. He means in my hand.
Honestly, I’ve lost track of what game we’re even playing so I set my cards down face-up and ask, “Did I get twenty-one or a full house?”
“Or both,” Elodie offers hopefully.
Maybe we’ve all lost track of the game.
“Looks like you’re winning,” Scotty says, then as he pins his gaze to mine, he adds, “Rachel.”
And did he say my name a little sensually? A little invitingly? I really need to figure out soon if I like mustaches.
I don’t have the answer yet, so I flash a grin, then return to the important topic with my friends. “Tomorrow night. I have a date with wine, my dirty imagination and the Man-inator,” I say, then add a roar for effect.
I giggle.
We all giggle.
“Or,” Elodie says, tapping her red nails on the felt, her impish soprano tone saying she has a clever idea. “Hear me out. Maybe you could get back on the real horse.”
My first instinct is to scoff and laugh. Me getting back out there for a hookup is a ridiculous notion. But my very next instinct is to tilt my head and consider her suggestion. A lot. I raise a glass. “You know what? That’s not a bad idea,” I say right as Carter comes up to the table next to me.
With the champagne in hand, I turn and stare, perhaps a little salaciously. Maybe even enough to bite my lip.
Because…Carter and his chest. Carter and his abs. Carter and his happy trail.
“It’s getting late. I need to take off,” he says, setting a hand on my arm. “Just wanted to say goodnight.”
He squeezes my shoulder. It’s friendly-ish. But it makes me tingly, too, right between my thighs.