Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
I wrinkle my nose and stay quiet.
She’s not letting up, but that’s what Marnie does.
After a few strong drinks, she’s a lioness. I make a mental note to slip away once she’s had a few more, right about the time she tumbles into the arms of her latest overbuilt surfer bum for the night.
“I will make it happen, you know. Whether it’s tonight or whenever things are cooling off in September. You promised, Cordie, and the clock’s ticking.” She wags her finger at me with a flip of her blond hair with the pink highlights. “I know you own at least one bikini. Why don’t you grab it? Show off your sexy, and maybe I’ll ask Big over there if he’s got a hot friend after I’m done with him.”
God.
The smile she’s wearing makes her look like a shark.
Shaking my head, I fold my arms, one more reminder that I’m overdressed even if I feel like I’m half-naked out here with all this skin surrounding us.
“We’ll see. I’m just here for the sunset and a martini or two. Oh, and please flip Kyle the bird next semester for talking about personal crap he really shouldn’t.”
I mean it.
In hindsight, it’s hard to believe the idiot I broke up with over a month ago was supposed to be the one.
We lasted a few months since late winter—longer than my other boyfriends by far—and I’d actually been getting a little impatient about jumping his bones toward the end.
He was the first man in a while I could actually imagine tumbling into bed with—until he sat me down after a nice dinner and spilled all the nasty stuff he wanted me to do.
The kinky stuff he was clearly expecting.
Look, I’m no stranger to getting freaky, even if it’s only been theoretical.
My taste in smut books says I crave it.
When I’m not painting, I love stuffing my nose in tales of bad boy billionaires and flaming hot firemen with filthy mouths and a spank-happy mindset.
But what turned Kyle’s crank?
Picture the exact opposite.
His bedroom interests made me drier than the Sonoran desert.
No, I wasn’t going to tie him up and slap him across the face while he called me mama.
Not in this lifetime.
Not with anyone.
Seriously.
Why the unholy hell is it so hard to find a normal red-blooded man with a good head on his shoulders?
Do men with an alpha bone in their bodies still exist outside romance novels and thriller movies?
“Aw, hey, don’t feel too bad,” Marnie says. “I’m sure it wasn’t all so one-sided with Mr. Bitter. We’ve got to do lunch soon. I’d love to hear what the little rat was really up to...”
I open my mouth to change the subject, but then I see Mr. Tangerine Man strutting toward us with neon-green martinis and a beer dripping condensation.
Thank God, at least I don’t have to wait for my drink.
“Cheers, ladies,” he says, pushing a martini into my hand and flashing me a wink that says I’m not just the annoying third wheel.
Oof.
Awkward.
I can’t believe some of these beach bozos have the balls to try for two girls at once.
There’s no earthly way I’m falling for it.
I nod my thanks and turn my attention back to Marnie. She gives me the look, as if to say watch this.
“Ohh, is that the new local brew? I heard it’s really citrusy,” she says, closing the tiny gap between her and Tangerine Man.
It’s a quick, exaggerated movement that makes her bang her martini glass rim against his thick chest.
Green cocktail.
Sticky peach-red man chest.
Her face glowing like fire as she lies her little butt off.
“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry,” she slurs, batting her eyes.
Yeah. It takes a saint’s restraint not to roll my eyes and laugh.
The beach bum laughs, wipes the mess off his skin, and then pulls her closer with a growl that would shame a tiger.
“You know I’m gonna make you lick that off, right?” He purrs softly in her ear. Still loud enough to overhear.
Ick.
And there goes Marnie’s panties. Gone with one bad tan and a whiff of testosterone.
I look away with a sigh, taking a long sip off my drink, praying the strong alcohol beneath the fruity kiwi-apple sweetness will help me forget the train wreck I’m witnessing.
Who the hell invited him anyway? I wonder. There are always a few guys like him buzzing around, obviously too old to be students. Unless he’s like a grad student in sports science or something.
Regardless, Marnie’s a bigger social butterfly than I’ll ever be.
With her outgoing style and charm and just as many special connections as mine, that could be useful. For now, it’s enough to put up with her shenanigans.
I drink more martini, marveling at how big the crowd has gotten. There must be several dozen people milling around, double fisting drinks, some already making out by the fires sparking up across the dark horizon.