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)
“Because you feel uncomfortable in it?”
“It’s not that bad,” Blu offhandedly informs.
“Because havin’ my woman leave her mark on me isn’t somethin’ I’m ashamed of.”
The sweet smile he’s presented is promptly cut short by Blu’s phone buzzing against the countertop, knocking into Mark Buffalo who’s guarding the counter. In one swift movement, he answers, “Yeah. You can let him up.”
Slater waits until the call is officially ended. “Seventeen?”
“Yup.”
My boyfriend uses the confirmation as an excuse to scoot closer to me.
Stand possessively behind me.
Tug his tee down a bit more, to inevitably display the aforementioned blemish.
Well, he may be the one with a hickey now, but I know that after this powwow wraps up, we’re going to be sporting matching ones because jealousy sex isn’t complete without that particular branding left behind.
It’s gotten so out of control from us both since the bar incident that I’m not gonna lie. I’m a little glad I don’t have to spend extra time covering them up to go to the office.
Although, I do miss my office.
And all my cute trinkets.
And Melissa giving me extra data I’ll never see on operatives’ field reports.
For the few minutes we have to spare, Blu asks for more details about the game we left other than the initial ones I gushed about. While there isn’t exactly much to tell about our very short outing, it’s a bit surprising that Slater doesn’t reveal his ma’s new status report but in the same breath, I guess I get it.
He’s still processing.
And processing is the kind of thing he does best alone.
“You went all Equalizer on a puck bunny?!” Blu loudly laughs right as Harvey knocks on the front door.
“I didn’t know she was a puck bunny.”
“Your brother’s face plastered on her nipple pasties didn’t give it away?”
“She didn’t have his face on her nipples.”
“So, you were looking at her nipples then?” he juvenilely jeers with an eyebrow wiggle.
Slater narrows his gaze to thin slits and growls, “Jus’ go open the door.”
More laughter accompanies Blu’s checking the peephole to verify it’s our boss, and once it’s confirmed, he lets him in.
“What’s so amusing?” Harvey politely interrogates upon entering the room.
“You don’t wanna know,” I swiftly insist with a shake of the head.
“Alright.” He kindly smiles. “I trust your judgment.”
We exchange grins, an action that prompts Slater to cage me in by bracing his palms on the edge of the counter spaces to each of my sides. “Evenin’, Seventeen.”
“Wahl.”
“You look awfully dressed up,” Blu verbally points out while dragging his laptop closer for viewing, inspiring me to move my stuffed animal over to our side. “I’mma guess you weren’t working late at the office.”
“I was not.” The man we all answer to begins to shrug off his trench coat. “I was actually at the opera.”
“Alone?” Slater’s best friend thoughtlessly cringes. “Isn’t that like the rich people equivalence to drinking alone?”
“I wasn’t alone.”
His announcement has the man pressing his front against my back slightly untensing.
“I was on a date.” He drapes his piece of attire over the edge closest to him. “Thankfully, she was quite understanding about my necessary but abrupt exit.”
Excitement crashes into curiosity causing me to question, “Was it the museum docent you swore had a phony French accent?”
Slater wordlessly returns to his rigid position once more.
“No. And her accent is phony.” His hands find their way to his black pants pockets. “Trust me, Arley. I’ve been to Marseille enough to know the difference.” Rather than further elaborate on that particular subject, he announces, “It was Amia.”
“The smokin’ hot barista!?!”
“Why do you know about this woman, Angel Cake?” Slater’s crisp, jagged, red shaded lettering summons my stare over my shoulder. “Or the other woman?”
“And how hot?” Blu naturally investigates. “On a scale of one to ten, Aviva being a solid nine, where does this Amia woman fall?”
Not in the mood for what always turns into an argument, I let an exasperated sigh fall loose. “Harvey mentioned last week that he wanted to start dating again and figured since I was in a happy, committed relationship that perhaps I might be able to offer him some feminine insight.”
“At least one of those things is true,” Slater’s best friend pokes.
I swiftly shift my stare back his direction and sassily scold, “You want me to tell Aviva you called her a five?”
“I said a nine.”
“And I will make it a five if you don’t mind your business in this conversation.”
His light chuckles are accompanied by him tossing his hands innocently into the air.
“Arley offered me some great advice,” Harvey calmly proclaims, forest green blocking settling neatly on the island. “Advice that led to me asking out a very attractive woman who turns out is only working at the coffee shop as part of a field study regarding behavioral patterns of individuals who consume central nervous stimulants – such as caffeine – daily.”