Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
All of a sudden, Arley’s narrowed gaze falls down to me. “You talked to her about me? Us?”
“There really wasn’t an ‘us’ to discuss at that time,” Lila needlessly reminds while sauntering to the other side of Blu to the bar. “And had you not been in that accident, I don’t know that there ever would’ve been.”
Okay.
That sounded bitchy.
She didn’t mean for it to.
That…couldn’t…possibly have been her intent.
My girlfriend leans around Blu’s posted frame to snap, “Excuse me?!”
“I just meant had your life not been in danger, he probably would’ve never told you how he really felt.”
Too be fair…that’s still not when I fucking told her.
“Li Li’s totally right,” Aviva enthusiastically agrees spurring Blu to grin wide and my scowl to unconsciously deepen. “Had that not happened, you two probably wouldn’t have hooked up. Probably ever.” The thought I know has suddenly popped into her mind unfortunately leaves her lips. “Ohhhhh! And you two,” her finger wiggles back and forth between me and Lila, “probably would’ve!” I can’t even open my mouth to stop the next train from leaving the station. “Then this double,” she motions her index to me and Arley, “would’ve been this double.” It bounces to me and her college roommate. “How funny is that!?”
“So funny,” Blu mischievously pokes and waggles his eyebrows at me.
Can we go one day?
Just one fucking day without him doing something punch worthy?
“What’s everyone drinkin’?” Lila asks resting her forearms on the bar, clearly displaying how good her ass looks in her cut off jean shorts.
Assuming it does.
I’m not looking.
I have no fucking desire to look.
The one place I am looking, I get the feeling won’t be an option if I can’t stop this Ghosts of Women I’ve Could’ve Slept With movie pitch from fucking happening.
“I can see Wahl’s drinking the best there is,” she playfully winks at me and then relocates her gaze to Aviva. “Vi Vi?”
“An Old Fashioned.”
“With Wilcox?”
“You know it,” Aviva girlishly giggles. “It’s almost empty, though.”
“And for the love of all that is holy at this neon church, we cannot get a clergy man to take our confession,” Blu dramatically sighs.
Arley attempts to smile. “He means order.”
“I know what he means,” Aviva states back without eye contact. “Hey, Hunt!”
Under her breath, the woman beside me mutters, “She is being a cun-”
Clearing my throat stops anyone from being able to hear it but also convinces Arley to remove herself from my loving grasp.
“Get your ass over here!”
The man who had pretty much been avoiding us since the other person working went on break finally makes his way over. “Lila…Lila…Lila…” He swings the dish cloth over his shoulder. “Those boots were definitely made for walking into this bar.”
Or another bar.
Or this bar at another fucking time.
Let’s say when I’m not here to get information about who is possibly out to kill the very woman who is less than subtly throwing daggers at someone she shouldn’t be.
Because there’s nothing to worry about.
There wasn’t then.
There isn’t now.
There never will be.
Arley Carmichal is it for me.
Always has been.
Always will be.
In this life and any others that may follow.
“What can I get ya?” Hunt asks while matching her stance.
“Two old fashioned for me and Vi Vi,” she coos, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “but I’m not sure what everyone else wants.”
“Another beer,” Blu immediately announces as the male begins to get to work on their beverages.
Hunt cuts a quick glance in my direction only to receive a small headshake and polite hand of denial.
“Tequila,” Arley aggressively bites. “Preferably top shelf. Tall glass.”
My counter is right above a whisper, “Maybe start with a single?”
“Extra tall glass.”
“You really think that’s the best idea right now?” I quietly investigate, stare shifting up to hers
The second her brown gaze lands on my blue she bites, “Would you prefer me to have an Old fashion?”
“Old fashioned,” corrects the woman on the opposite end of the bar from her, summoning Arley’s glare like it’s Candy Man in the goddamn mirror. “Probably shouldn’t drink one if you don’t know what it’s called.”
“That’s great advice!” Aviva emphasizes the point with a bobble headed nod and places her empty glass near me. “I ordered a Moscow Mule once with some coworkers but made the mistake of calling it Moscow Moose and still haven’t lived that shit down.”
I effortlessly slide the dish forward towards the bartender yet slyly slip the garnish stick into my possession, tucking it into my curled fingers.
“Baby, how’d you fuck that one up?” Blu jovially questions as he tugs his girlfriend in closer, which instantaneously reminds me of the distance my own has created.
“You know when it comes to mammals shit is a lot harder for me.”
“Aren’t there more species of bees than mammals?” Arley’s eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “Wait. Aren’t there more species of bees than mammals and birds put together?”