Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Something about his demeanor changed. Sort of a swelling of his shoulders and lifting of his chest, as if he was preparing for a fight. On her behalf? “Your ex was careless with you.”
Not a question, a statement.
Flustered by her willingness to share so recklessly with this man, she reached for her drink and stared into its depths. She took a sip, cooling her throat, feeling his rapt attention on her the whole time. “Your turn. Love or pride?”
“Love,” he answered without hesitation.
Why did something inside her bloom like a rose over his answer? “Really?” Her voice was more uneven than a middle schooler’s. “You just told me that whole story about Honda Accords and your family valuing pride.”
“I know.” He appeared thoughtful. “But love seems more important now.”
Don’t ask why. “Why?”
“Because I can tell you don’t believe in it. And I want you to.”
She definitely shouldn’t ask why to that question. Or try to read between the lines for something that wasn’t there. “That’s very generous of you,” she said quickly, feeling a rare ramble coming on and too flustered to avoid it. “I mean, the two are very closely related at the end of the day, right? Love means letting go of your pride, after all.”
He looked at her as if she’d just said something really smart. “Holy shit. Does it?”
“I don’t know, August. I’m not an expert.” He continued to stare at her. For so long that she started to fidget. “What?”
“I want to know exactly what happened in New York.”
Natalie shook her head. “No.”
“Who is up for some axe throwing?” Hallie sang, coming along beside them, face flushed, a very cocky looking Julian sauntering up behind her. “We can do teams. Couple versus couple.”
“Screw that.” Natalie set down her drink and hauled Hallie against her side. “Men versus women.”
A smile threatened the corners of August’s mouth. “Who am I to object?”
“Battle of the sexes.” Hallie flexed a biceps. “Let’s do this.”
Julian and Hallie left to secure their foursome a lane, leaving August and Natalie sizing each other up in the middle of the growing crowd. “Care to make it interesting?” he asked. “Not that I haven’t already won just getting to watch you throw an axe in that short-ass dress.”
“I’m going to get you sexual harassment training as a wedding gift.”
His expression brightened. “Are we getting each other gifts?”
Natalie opened her mouth with the intention of calling him a bonehead—again—but the group to her back surged forward without warning and she stumbled, pitching forward. August moved like lightning, catching her around the waist with his free left arm, spilling not a single drop of his beer in the process. She successfully avoided falling, but her nose buried itself in the middle of his chest, smack dab between his pecs, and the smell of grapefruit soap and shaving cream momentarily made her brain fuzzy. And it grew fuzzier still when he pulled her closer. Protectively. Giving the people behind her a dark look. “Okay, princess?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She inhaled—discreetly—a final time.
Or maybe not so discreetly, because his lips twitched.
Finally, she managed to pull back, smoothing the front of her dress, wincing at the breathlessness in her tone when she said, “You were saying something about a wager?”
Chapter Eleven
It is a universal truth that people don’t make the best decisions while drinking alcohol. In fact, people came to places like this with the express intention of making questionable decisions. To stop being responsible for a while and let fate stir the pot. Case in point, axe throwing in a bar. As a man who’d undergone extensive weapons training and knew how shit could go wrong in the blink of an eye, he wanted to carry Natalie out of there over his shoulder. The fact that she was anywhere near several blades was unsettling him to a degree that couldn’t be ignored.
The increasing protectiveness he felt for his fiancé told August . . .
This wasn’t temporary.
They weren’t.
Sorry, princess. Sucks to be you.
This woman standing in front of him was his destiny. Part of him had known it the night they met, when she’d made him laugh and made him horny in the same breath. Jesus, she looked beautiful tonight with all that dark, smudgy makeup around her eyes and her hair . . . it kind of looked like sex hair. Like she’d been rolling around in the sheets. Was that intentional? Fuck. He would give up watching baseball for a decade to sink a fist into it right now. Move her head right to left, tug it back so he could get a look at that mouth up close.
Don’t get me started on her legs.
If someone brandished an axe within ten yards of those pins, he’d throw them out of this place through the plate glass window. And her face. Man, he loved looking at those kaleidoscopic features as they brightened and dimmed and shifted. They were the reason he’d gotten severely off track.