Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
She might as well be the principal breaking up an after-school fight, because everyone scatters like roaches, quickly going back to their pool tables and dinners so Etta doesn’t yell at them too. I jump down, my boots echoing loudly on the wood floor. “Sorry! Wanted to explain once and be done. It’s been a long-ass day.”
I grab a towel and a spray bottle to clean the bar off myself, looking for Aunt Etta’s acceptance of my apology. She narrows her eyes, and with a flip of her dark braid, she disappears into the back again, and the whole room releases a collective breath. That hair flip of hers is deadly if you’re standing too close, but oddly, seeing it usually means that you’ve passed one of Etta’s tests and she’s leaving you to whatever nonsense you’re up to.
I look around for an open table, but it’s the blonde waving me over that finally brings a much-needed smile to my face after this shitty day.
“Hey!” I groan as I collapse into a chair beside her.
“Good speech.” The compliment is accompanied by a wry twist of Wren’s lips and a small golf clap.
I thank her by pulling her chair between my spread legs and throwing an arm over the back. Leaning in, I pause for the tiniest of moments to whisper, “Hi.”
Not waiting for an answer, I meet her lips with mine for a hello kiss. It feels natural, like we’ve done it a hundred times before, and in some ways, we have. But not like this . . . not as a gentle reconnection after both of us having especially bad days.
And not in front of the entirety of Puss N Boots on a busy night.
“Wooo, hell yeah!”
“About”—clap—“damn”—clap—“time”—clap.
There’s also a chorus of hoots and hollers that don’t have words, but all mean the same thing—our town is happy for us.
I can feel Wren shrinking away from me at the newfound audience, but we’re not doing that. Not when I finally have her. I chase her mouth, kissing her deeply as I hold up a middle finger to everyone else.
There’s a bit of laughter, but all my attention is centered on Wren and her reaction. She doubts my desire to be seen with her? After this kiss, she won’t. There won’t be room in her beautiful mind for doubt. Only pure certainty that she’s mine and I’m hers.
Finally.
She surrenders to the moment, to the kiss . . . to us. And only then do I release her. Though I add a couple of soft, smacking kisses before pulling back completely.
“Hi yourself,” she answers dreamily. The look on her face is exactly what I’ve imagined—her guards down, her eyes soft, and her lips lifted in a blissed-out smile. Not many people are lucky enough to see Wren this way, so I appreciate the gift she’s giving me by letting me behind the walls of her hard shell.
I relax back into my chair, but keep my arm on the back of Wren’s, claiming her. And for good measure, I pull her legs over my thigh, letting her calf brush against my cock. “I’d ask how your day was, but I think I have some idea.”
“Screw that.” Wren bumps me with her shoulder and grins. “I wanna hear how that played out before I got there.”
“You and everyone else,” I tease. “I don’t know how Chrissy found out, but she showed up and commandeered that skid steer. Nearly ran Roscoe over because he was trying to talk some sense into her, and when he knew she was too far gone, he couldn’t get outta her way fast enough. I was just glad Lucy wasn’t there. I don’t know what Chrissy would’ve done.”
“Or Jed,” she adds.
I shrug. “Nah, he deserves whatever’s coming his way.”
“Yeah, no love lost there on my side either. But that’ll help with the workload, right? Keep your guys busy for a while longer?”
I side-eye her and whisper hotly, “Did you do that? Tell Chrissy about Lucy so that my crews could work?”
The timing is suspect, but damn if I wouldn’t be shocked as shit if Wren did something like that. It’s out of character for her, but she’s also willing to do just about anything for the people she cares about.
“What? No!” she exclaims in surprise. “Wait . . . did you?”
I snort. “Hell no, it’s a good idea, though. Too good for me.” We look at each other, both working out who might’ve done something that diabolically brilliant.
“Etta?” Wren suggests quietly, looking over her shoulder like my aunt might pop up out of nowhere to overhear her.
I whisper in Wren’s ear, “If so, we’d best shut our mouths about it or she’ll tell Tayvious not to feed us.”
Wren grins widely and whispers back, “Good thing I already ordered nachos, then.”
Delighted and starving, I pat my hollow belly and groan, “Fuuuck, that’s why I love you. Always thinking ahead.”