Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
I shudder at the thought as I step onto the dock beside the boathouse.
I would die.
I would spontaneously combust from shame and my ashes would be blown away by the wind, never to be seen again.
But that’s one of the many benefits of being a twenty-four-year-old virgin. I don’t have to worry about my sex tape being leaked to the internet, revenge porn, or STDs. I also spend very little time fretting about my heart being broken or accidental pregnancy.
Basically, life as an ancient, nerdy virgin is a bowl of cherries—pun intended.
I couldn’t be happier.
So, why does my heart twist in my chest as I lean against the dock railing and stare back at the historic hotel, where all my nearest and dearest are celebrating?
I’m not jealous, truly I’m not. I wouldn’t want to get married right now. I’m not even ready for a steady boyfriend.
My remote job might go in-person in the next few months. If it does, I’ll be moving to Boston, and scoring a twenty thousand dollar increase in my annual salary. The last thing I need is an emotional attachment in Bad Dog tying me down. I already have the emotional attachment of my family to deal with. I know they won’t be happy to learn that I’m moving so far away, even if it is only to assist on a two-year research study.
So, no. No boyfriend or fiancée for me, but a kiss might be nice.
Or maybe, something more than a kiss…
I wouldn’t want to put my perfect “no dicks anywhere near my lady flower” record at risk, but the way Seven was holding Binx as he guided her around the dance floor made me wonder what it feels like to be held like that…like the person holding you finds you irresistible.
“Wendy Ann McGuire? Is that you?” The deep voice rumbling from my left makes me jump half a foot in the air.
“What?” I gasp as I spin to watch a tall shadow emerge from the open boathouse door. “Wh-who are you?”
He chuckles, a pleasant, rolling sound that makes the hair stand up on my arms. “Aw, come on. You remember me,” he says, grinning as he steps into the moonlight a few feet away. “You used to eat boogers in my backyard.”
“I did no such thing,” I protest, making the man laugh.
He chuckles again. “I was just teasing, McGuire. Everyone knows my little brother was the gross one.”
My eyes widen. “Connor Sinclair?”
“The same,” he says, a dimple popping in his right cheek.
My jaw drops as my gaze tracks up and down the tall, muscled person Connor Sinclair has become. From his tousled sandy blond hair to the shining tips of his fancy shoes, he looks…expensive. Expensive and polished and too handsome for his own good—all things I hate in a guy.
So why does my neck hair join my arm hair in prickling to life as he steps closer?
“Shouldn’t you be at the wedding?” he asks, motioning toward my gauzy lilac bridesmaid’s dress.
“I’m avoiding my mother,” I murmur, trying—and failing—to rip my gaze away from his. I can’t see what color his eyes are in the dim light, but they’re dazzling, even partly in shadow. He looks like he has secrets, fun ones that would be delightful to discover. “And your brother.”
His brows lift. “Petey? Is he showing his ass? Do I need to remind him how to treat a beautiful woman?”
I snort and am immediately mortified. I cover by stammering, “No, he’s fine. It’s my mother wanting to re-introduce me to your brother that I’m avoiding. I’m not interested in being set up right now.”
He nods, his eyes sparkling again. “Oh, no, you don’t want to be set up. Especially not with my brother.”
I tilt my head to one side. “Why not? Don’t you like your brother?”
“Don’t you?” he challenges, avoiding the question.
I narrow my eyes. “I don’t really remember him. Except that he ate gross things in the sandbox when we used to play together. Call me shallow, but that’s not the kind of thing I can get past, even if it happened almost twenty years ago. He was several years older than I was at the time. He really should have known better.”
He makes a considering sound. “I agree, and can’t say that I blame you. And to answer your question, no, I don’t really care for my brother. Which is a shame. I like the idea of a close, brotherly bond, but…”
“But?” I prompt, intrigued by his openness. In my family, such betrayal of a fellow McGuire to a stranger, if discovered, would be punished by the cold shoulder and years of side-eye.
He shrugs. “That’s just not how it worked out for us.”
“But my mother said he’s joining your practice when he graduates.”
Connor grunts. “That’s what my mother keeps telling everyone. But that’s going to be hard to do now that I’ve sold the practice and am leaving town on Monday.” He flashes his dimple again as he adds in a faux whisper, “How pissed is she going to be when she finds out, do you think?”