Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Uh…you might wanna check that phone again, Cowboy, because I definitely sent them, along with a victory selfie, and a series of GIFs regarding my excitement over our boys crushing it.”
“Yeah?!”
“Fuck. Yeah. Three to one.”
Her excitement causes me to grin wider.
Laugh louder.
Become even more anxious to see her face in the next twenty-four hours.
“Think Blu will mind if you watch tonight’s game while he drives?”
“Doubt it.”
“Puck drops in thirty, which means-”
“I have thirty to catch up for our streamin’ date.”
“Exactly.”
“Then let me get off the phone and get to it then, Angel Cake.”
She offers me one last snigger prior to playfully scolding. “Is that any way to say goodbye?”
“You know I don’t say goodbye to you.”
Nope.
Never.
Nothing that permanent will ever leave my lips when it comes to her.
“Stay sweet, Angel Cake.”
“Stay safe, Cowboy.”
The instant I end the call, I shift my attention upward where it’s met by a mischievous smirk and more headshaking.
Yeah.
I’m very much so in love with my best friend, and she may be the only person on the whole goddamn planet who doesn’t seem to know that.
So, what am I supposed to do?
Just fucking tell her?
Uh…no.
Fuck. No.
I may not be afraid to risk it all to save an innocent person but losing what we have scares me more than anything else in the entire world. And if protecting it means having to spend the rest of my life – outside of us – buried in expensive booze, random one-nightstands, and death-defying assignments, then so be it.
Chapter 2
Arley
There are typically only two reasons people demand to see me at the office.
They either want something I won’t give them or don’t want what I’ve already given them.
No matter which way you spin it, I’m the bad guy in the scenario.
The villain.
The scapegoat for every shit mood, shit paycheck, and shitty career stumble.
Do I like it?
Um…no.
My job is soul crushing enough without adding to it the weight that comes with my position. I know they say, “heavy is the head that wears the crown”, but that shit feels like the understatement of my entire career at Haworth Enterprises, the privately owned company which covers a multitude of avenues including but not limited to military, security, and biotechnology. From the moment I was hired for a lower-level analysis role, I continuously had responsibilities outside my paygrade thrown at me like confetti until one day – courtesy of my older brother Morris, the malpractice attorney – I had the guts to demand more.
More pay.
More vacation.
More titles.
All of which were given and haven’t stopped being given since.
I mean I could ask for a platinum collared pony at this point as well as a golden walled stable to keep it in and their response would simply be “male or female”?
Is that awesome?
To an extent, yeah.
But honestly, I’d take having a few decision-making jewels removed from the metaphorical crown over financial incentives any day.
Oh, and as for people demanding to see me outside of the office?
Only my family fits that bill.
Only my family has ever fit that bill.
Well…and Slater.
Though, I consider him family. And my family considers him family. And the imaginary family I envision us having together considers him family since in those delusions he is their dad or grandad.
And of course, those are delusions…
Very…vivid…delusions.
Very vivid, heart stopping delusions because Slater Wahl will never be more than my best friend.
My 6’2, built solid like his last name, angel food cake devouring, southern accented, could have any woman – or man – in the world without even trying, so why bother considering me for that position best friend.
I love the guy.
I’m kinda, sorta, a tiny bit in love with him too.
Ugh.
Fine.
That’s a lie.
I’m doodle his name in frosting, dedicate every lovesick Paramore song to him, daydreaming about us dancing at our wedding in love with him.
Not that it matters.
Like I said, he could have anyone in the whole world – probably the solar system if we happen to discover non hostile extraterrestrials – meaning there’s no need to go spelunking around the other side of the friends’ zone for a wife.
Or girlfriend.
Or good time to be more accurate in his case.
Pretty sure the man is more allergic to commitment than I am to pollen.
Even the concept of dating – actual dating not our friendship dates – seems to cause his throat to swell.
Could be because of his PJ past.
I know he didn’t want to form attachments while he was in the military due to never knowing if he was going to come home or in how many pieces or how damaged he would be if or when he did. I know he never wanted to put anyone “extra” through that. Part of him hated having to put his parents through it after they had missed so much of his life already, but he did it anyway.