Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Jory,” Pat said, looking annoyed, “I’m putting my crappy beer in the fridge because your annoying husband won’t let me put it in the one outside on the porch because it’s not the craft kind.”
“I know,” I said from where I was up on the ladder. “He’s very picky about what goes into that fridge.”
“Picky’s not the word I’d use,” he muttered, walking away.
“Jory,” Chaz called over to me, and when I was looking at him, he gestured to the other three men, “this is Ed, Gene, and Mark. We’re playing poker here because Ed’s basement flooded, and no one’s driving downtown to Duncan’s place until Christmas is over.”
I glanced at one of my closest friends. “No one wants to go to the four-story penthouse above the Bean and look down on Millennium Park?”
Duncan shrugged. “Apparently not.”
“It’s too rich for my blood,” Mark said, and I could tell he was goading Duncan just a bit.
“Technically, the fourth floor is all library and skylight and the outdoor area,” Hannah reminded everyone, looking at Duncan. “There’s only three floors that you live in.”
He smiled at Hannah, and it was clear he adored her sticking up for him. “Are you starting your windows?”
“Yes,” she said excitedly. “As you can see, I freed up the space and am going for a sort of steps pattern this year.”
“I do see,” he told her and then turned to me. “What’s with the monster tree?”
I squinted at him. “It’s a real one, and it will be planted in our yard after the holidays.”
He nodded. “Okay. So, where ya gonna put it so it doesn’t get in the way of the swing?”
“The swing,” Jake repeated, looking at Kola. “I didn’t think about that.”
“It can go on the side of the house by Hannah’s herb garden,” Harper chimed in. “You’ll just have to go out the front door and around to the right when you need parsley or rosemary.”
“That sounds terrible,” she grumbled. “Let’s think on it some more.”
Sam and his friends got down to card playing, and when I offered to make snacks, everyone was on board. Once it was ready, I invited the men to eat and the kids as well. The spread was big, I really only had one default, but the boys would always make quick work of leftovers. I never had to worry.
“This looks great,” Mark complimented me before he smacked me on the ass. “Thank you.”
Sam, who was on the porch getting more beer, walked back in to me standing there, unsure of whether I should say something or not.
“You look weird.”
“I––”
“Wait,” Duncan said quickly, rushing over to stand next to me before turning to look at Mark. “May I ask what your thought process was there?”
“What?”
Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve never seen you smack Ersi on the ass after she makes us snacks.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Sam asked, his voice pitching.
“He would never touch Ersi,” Pat chimed in, “or he’d be missing a limb.”
“Exactly,” Duncan agreed, bumping me gently with his shoulder, now standing solidly between me and Mark. “But I’m thinking you would have smacked Chaz on the ass if he made snacks at his house instead of Steph.”
I glanced at Chaz who, as always, was thinking instead of blurting something out. It was one of his best qualities that I’d learned to admire over the years. “He might have smacked me on the ass, like you all do when we play football. But Steph would definitely have thoughts about anyone but her smacking my ass in our kitchen.”
Duncan nodded before tipping his head, studying Mark. “So you didn’t mean it like good job there, wifey, because you wouldn’t treat any of the other wives like that.”
“No, of course not.”
Ed grunted. “If he touched my wife, he’d be out on my front lawn a second later.”
“Gimme a break, Ed,” Mark snapped.
“That’s the mother of my children, Mark,” he said with a bit of ice in his voice. “Sam could toss you out on your ass as well.”
“We’re not going to do that,” I said, turning to my husband, who was now standing on the other side of me. “Are we?”
“Did you slap his ass because he’s one of the guys or because you wanted to touch his ass?” Sam asked, brows furrowed.
“No I— I didn’t mean––” He turned to me then. “I’m so sorry, Jory, I wasn’t thinking.”
I nodded. “It’s fine.”
Sam’s hand went to the back of my neck then, and he squeezed gently. “May I speak to you out here for a moment?”
I had no time to answer before I was steered out onto the porch. He turned me slowly around to face him.
“It’s fine,” I said quickly. “He meant it like I was one of the guys.”
He nodded, cupping my face in his hand. “And if he slapped Hannah’s ass?”
“Then he’d be out,” I assured him.