Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
He was staring at my tits.
Okay, he was with his chick and staring at my chest.
Maybe he was the Supreme Asshole of All Time.
“My ex,” she answered. “Hey, Mo.”
“Hey,” he grunted.
Mo Translation: I have zero interest in conversing with you.
Then again, he had zero interest in conversing with just about everybody as far as I could tell.
I was understanding why she was an ex when she ignored his vibe and asked, “How’s things?”
Another grunt of, “Good.”
She sliced a glance at me. “Is this your new—?”
“Yup,” I said, cutting her off before Mo could say anything, then shifting and putting my arm around his waist.
Or trying. He had a wide waist. It was trim, but it was wide.
I finally grabbed hold of the other side, barely, my fingers sliding off the slick material of his skintight compression shirt.
So I grabbed onto a beltloop of his cargos.
Her gaze dropped to my finger hooked through his beltloop, her eyes narrowed, and she didn’t seem to notice it took long moments for Mo to drop his arm around my shoulders.
I nearly crumbled to the floor.
His arm had to weigh more than my entire body.
I held steady and took the shot of acid she aimed at me from her eyes.
I shot her an acid neutralization glare and followed it up with a laser beam stare.
She blinked (yeah, my laser beam stare rocked) then tried to deflect by looking back to Mo.
“I haven’t heard from you in a while,” she remarked.
Her dude gave her a look.
Mo said nothing.
I said something.
“That happens when you break up, Tammy.”
“I’m sorry, you are?” she asked me.
“Lottie.” I grinned saccharine sweet. “Nice ta meet ya.”
“Well, Lottie,” she doused my sweet with some bitter, “we only broke up a month ago.”
Bitch Translation: It hasn’t been that long for you to be this tight with him, so I got you.
“Though you were fuckin’ him a lot longer than that, yeah, Tammy?”
I went still under the weight of Mo’s arm as these words came out of Mo’s mouth.
The “him” I assumed was the boyfriend since all the color ran out of his face.
No longer distracted by my chest, Peacock was realizing who “Mo, the ex” was.
“Let’s move on, Tam, yeah?” the boyfriend said, and I figured he did this because he had the gift of sight and this conversation had taken a turn he did not want within reaching distance of Mo.
Tammy’s eyes were full of regret when she looked up at Mo. “Mo, I—”
“You honest to fuck wanna do this in a King Soopers?” Mo asked.
“No, she doesn’t,” the boyfriend answered hurriedly.
“Well, I wanna do it in King Soopers,” I snapped.
All eyes came to me, even, I felt, Mo’s.
“Are you high?” I demanded to know from Tammy.
“Lottie,” Mo muttered, that arm around me tightening, or more like squeezing.
Even with the real danger of him dislocating my shoulder, I glared at Tammy.
“You walked right up to him and said, ‘hey,’ after you cheated on him. Who does that?” I asked.
She looked to her cart and muttered, “Maybe we should just—”
I stepped out from under Mo’s arm and stood in front of her cart, cutting her off by ordering, “No, bitch, answer me. Who does that?”
I felt Mo’s fingers curl into the back waistband of my jeans and he probably had to stoop real low because I also heard right in my ear, “Lottie—”
But I had Tammy’s attention again.
And her squinty eyes.
“Did you just call me a bitch?” she asked.
“Yeah, bitch, I called you bitch,” I answered. Then I shrieked, “You cheated on Mo!”
Yeah, I shrieked.
But what was the matter with her?
“Fucking hell,” I heard Mo murmur just as I felt my jeans get tight at the waistband since he jerked me back by using just that.
I whipped my head around then cranked it to look up at him and yelled, “Let go of me, Mo!”
“Lottie, cool it,” he commanded.
“Fuck cool!” I shouted. “She cheated on you then walked right up to you at a King Soopers and said, ‘hey!’”
“I don’t care,” Mo told me.
“I care!” I yelled.
“How can you care if I don’t care?” he asked, his face sharing genuine curiosity.
“She said ‘hey!’” I screeched.
“Is there a problem here?”
Mo turned, and since he still had his fingers in my jeans, I was pulled around to see a woman standing there wearing a King Soopers apron with a nametag on it that said Rhonda with the word Manager under it.
“Yes, Rhonda, there’s a problem,” I informed her. “She,” I swung a pointed finger to Tammy, “cheated on him,” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder to Mo, “with him.” I finished this pointing in the direction of the boyfriend.
Rhonda looked between Mo and the boyfriend, cast her judgment openly through her expression (that’s what I’m talkin’ about!) and was looking disbelievingly at Tammy when I carried on.