Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
She could use some time out with someone closer to her own age who knew how to have a good time.
What am I getting out of this situation, you might be wondering.
Well, that's actually pretty simple.
The girls club was great. Fucking amazing, really. But most of them were off making and raising babies, hardly ever around to hang out. So me, yeah, I'm surrounded by fucking dudes all the goddamn time. Eventually, you just need some estrogen around, need a different kind of view on life, different type of conversation.
With my sister out exploring the world and doing her conlady thing, well, I was just a little starved for female interaction.
It was as simple as that.
So I ignored the ribbing I got from the guys, most of them insisting this 'friend' bullshit was just some brilliant 'long game' of mine to try to get in the pants of a woman who would normally never have me.
And on Monday night, I grabbed my bike, and headed down toward The Creamery.
Personally, I had never been there before.
But it had been around as long as I could remember, my mother always driving past it to take us for ice cream at a restaurant so she could order bottomless coffee to keep her going.
I had no idea what to expect when I stepped inside, but found white - white walls, white tile floors, a white counter, white tables. There were accent colors of mint, cherry, lemon, and strawberry which happened to be flavors of sorbet they sold, and matched the pictures of ice cream on the walls. Overall, the place was clean to the point of almost sterile, but still somehow welcoming.
And, well, the bombshell working the desk wasn't hurting the place either. She was tall and curvy with shoulder-length dark brown hair, exotic skin whose origins I wasn't even going to begin to try to decipher, deep, heavy-lidded almond eyes with a strong winged liner, and generous lips.
Hot.
In the fucking-A kind of way.
When I walked in, she had been leaning one forearm on the counter, her other hand holding a pen that was scrolling almost frantically over a page. But as soon as the door chimed my presence, she straightened, and stuffed the pages away under the counter. Almost a little frantically.
That was... interesting.
"Henchmen," she said, brows drawing together even as her lips tipped up, a look that suggested she didn't know whether to be amused or confused by my presence. "Without a kid. This might be a first."
"I do like being an original," I said, chancing a look over my shoulder when I thought I heard someone, not quite sure why the fuck I was so anxious for her to show up for a friendship-date.
"Waiting for someone?"
"A pretty librarian with a whole bookshelf in her purse," I admitted with a shrug.
"No friggin way are you going on a date with Reese Washington," she objected immediately. "Not a snowball's chance in hell."
"And why not?" I asked, willing to pick her brain if she was willing to give me a little more insight into the woman.
"Because first of all, she doesn't date. Like, ever. She's gorgeous and smart as a whip, and actually pretty funny once you get to know her, but she just doesn't look up from her books enough to notice men."
"I'm extremely noticeable," I offered, holding the sides of my cut open like I was showing off my abs, even though I had a white tee on.
"Well, yeah," she agreed casually, like it was no big deal. You had to respect a woman who was not bowled over by good looks. "But that's another strike against you. You're too good-looking. She wouldn't trust you."
"Anything else?"
"Yeah, well, around here, The Henchmen aren't exactly known for keeping their dicks in their pants. A fact I am sure she has heard before."
"Guilty as charged," I agreed with a nod.
"So, how the hell could you possibly be on a date with Reese?"
"It's a friendship-date."
"Oh, my ass!" she declared, smile spreading, all white teeth and the hint of a dimple in one cheek. "What a bullshit line!"
"It's not a line," I objected, tone a little firmer than usual because, quite frankly, I was getting a little sick of hearing I was nothing but a dog.
"Right. So you're just going to sit here, have a scoop of ice cream, and then not try to go home with her?"
"Exactly."
It wasn't that I wouldn't love to go home with her, of course. In fact, while I had gone out with my brothers to Chaz's for some skirt-chasing, my heart hadn't been in it. I actually went back to the clubhouse alone with only my right hand, and some vivid memories of Reese blushing when I mentioned fucking, to help ease the almost painful need for release I had had.
Of course I wanted her.