Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“My boss has this crazy theory that you’re into me, and—”
“Your boss said that?” Shit. Okay, did someone squeeze my balls to make my voice go that high-pitched?
“Yeah.” Rainn averts his gaze. “And while I told him he’s wrong, I just … I mean … God, this is going to sound so conceited, but, like … I wanted to make it clear that nothing could ever happen.”
Yup, there’s the sound of my shattering heart. It’s followed quickly by a quake of guilt. Rainn looks upset, like he’s done something wrong.
I act unfazed. “Rainn, I’m not delusional or waiting around for some straight guy to suddenly realize my abs are hot and my cock is even better.”
He huffs a tiny laugh.
“Straight guys aren’t into dudes. I know that.” I shrug, but it’s stiff.
His mouth opens and then closes like he’s changed his mind about what he’s going to say. “Why …” His lips press together.
“Why what?”
“Why have you stopped trying to find a guy at the bar?”
Ah.
That broken heart of mine thumps hard. “That has nothing to do with you.”
Rainn’s blue eyes narrow.
“I guess … I’ve been chickening out. Hanging out with you while you work has been a good comfort, and … yeah, I guess I’m nervous about putting myself out there.”
It’s not a complete lie.
His sexy-as-fuck mouth purses, and damn it, I hate not telling him the truth, but if I do that, he’ll run the other way, and then I won’t even have him as a friend.
“Are you sure? Because I don’t want to be an asshole here and lead you on or—”
I hold up my hand to stop him. “You’re not leading me on. I mean, you’re hot, but what idiot gay guy would fall for his straight friend?” Yes, what gay idiot, indeed.
Rainn’s lips quirk. “I’m hot, huh?”
“For someone who’s a grump, yeah.”
His grunt only makes me laugh and fall for him a little more. Damn him.
“I promise you, I’m still looking for someone, and I’ll prove it.” I stand.
“How?”
“I’m going to take someone home tonight.” I cover it well, but my gut twists at the thought. Still, I feign confidence. “Or, actually, I’ll let them take me home. My place is too far.”
“Great.” Rainn’s tone is light, but it looks like he’s gritting his teeth.
“But first, drinks for courage.”
Lots and lots of drinks.
I’m going to do it. After weeks of putting this off and making excuses—holding out for a guy who will never be into me—I’m going to do it.
I slide off my designated stool, and okay, I’m going to do it as soon as the room stops spinning. Fusing my eyes shut, I wait for my equilibrium to return, but I may be a wee bit drunk.
The Shipley Cider wasn’t enough, so I switched to the hard stuff, and that’s how the bar lights became blurry and my face became happy. Even if it’s heating up.
“Whoa, there, big guy.” Rainn rounds the bar and puts his hand on my shoulder to push me back down to the seat. “You’re a bit wobbly.”
“Did I tell you I never drink hard liquor?”
“No. You neglected to tell me that while I kept feeding it to you.”
I wobble on the stool. “I haven’t since freshman year when I was at a party. I got so drunk I almost blurted my sexuality all over everyone. That wouldn’t have been good.” I shake my head. Or maybe the room shakes and I’m completely still. Probably the former, but it could so totally be the room.
Room is a funny word.
“I’m going to get you some water.”
“I’m going to get me some.” The room is less spinny now when I stand, probably because I’m on a mission. I’m laser focused, like a cheetah stalking its prey.
Why is my conscience talking in David Attenborough’s voice suddenly?
“Ian,” I bark a little too loudly when I get to his table.
He and his friends flinch.
“Oops. That was loud,” I whisper.
Ian smiles up at me. “Can I help you?”
“Yep. If your offer’s still good, I’m ready.”
His smile widens as he leans back in his seat. “Oh, really?”
“Yep. Totally.”
“How drunk are you? Touch your nose for me.”
The guys at his table snicker while I roll my eyes. “Fine.” My finger hits its target but barely. “I’m not drunk-drunk. I know what I’m doing.”
Ian slides out of the booth, but a big bartending hand pushes him back down.
“No, he doesn’t,” Rainn growls.
“Yes, I do,” I whine, and I know I sound like a petulant child, but I really don’t care.
Rainn drags me away. “It’s not going to happen this way.”
“Last time I checked, you don’t get a say.”
“I do when I’m the one who gave you all the alcohol I thought your hockey body could handle. How are you such a lightweight?”
“Only when it comes to liquor. Did I ever tell you I don’t drink it, ever?”