Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
“I’m not opposed to that.” I smirk. I have been itching to get out of here, but I wouldn't turn that offer down. I think my body went too long without sex, and Brooks flipped the switch inside of me.
“We don’t have time.” He takes my hand, leading me out and onto the elevator. “They’re already waiting for you.”
“Me? Who is waiting for me?” Oh no. “What have you done?”
“Nothing for social media. This is private.” I give him a look. “Swear it.”
I trust him and let him lead me into the back of The Plate. We pass the table in the kitchen and head out toward the main part of the restaurant. They aren’t open yet. Brooks stops at two double doors, pushing them open. Three girls turn around to face us. Bright smiles light up their faces.
“Is this her?”
“Gorgeous, how did you land her?” Two women speak at the same time.
“Ah, thanks.” I smile back at them.
“You’re Slater?” a redhead asks. It hits me who she is: Frankie. Brooks has talked about his friends from poker and their partners. This is them.
“That's me.” A mischievous smile spreads across Frankie’s face.
“We’re here to celebrate. I’m Luna,” The pretty blonde pulls me in for a quick hug.
“And to come up with a plan.” Frankie rubs her hands together.
“A plan?” I glance at Brooks, who shrugs.
“They wanted to meet you,” he tells me.
“And plot the demise of Felipe.” Frankie looks way too excited about this. The other two nod their heads in agreement.
Damn, I think I’m going to like these girls.
“Do you guys have any ideas?” I ask as I take a seat at the table set for four.
“Not yet, but that’s why we’re all here together. Nat and I are lawyers, and Luna is—”
“I’m a spender,” the delicate blonde interjects with a smile. Everyone is so pretty, Nat with her chestnut hair and the pert nose and wide-set eyes who looks like a movie star lawyer, and Frankie with the red hair and that body that would make pin-up models cry with envy.
I run my hands over my own curvy figure and remind myself that this is the body Brooks loves. Or at least lusts after.
“She’s a planner,” Frankie corrects. “Luna plans enormous fundraisers.”
“Where I spend a lot of money.” Luna’s like her name, fine-featured and glowing from within.
“I can attest that she spends a lot of money,” a deep voice booms in the space. We all turn at once to see three men walk in. One of them I recognize because he’s Kaden Gunner, the star quarterback of the Mavericks. The other two look vaguely familiar.
“I didn’t say you needed to come.” Brooks sounds peeved. He lays a hand on my shoulder as if he’s afraid one of them will steal me away.
“I had to drive Luna here,” the deep-voiced guy says, pulling up a chair and shoving it between Luna and Nat. “Move over, Nat, would you? It’s been a good fifteen minutes since I was last with Luna. That’s about all I can handle.”
“Unlike this wimp, I haven’t seen Frankie all morning.” Kaden leans down and places a loud kiss on Frankie’s cheek. “How’d I do, kitten?”
“You’re very patient.” Frankie pats the quarterback on his head like he’s a puppy. Kaden just grins happily.
The other guy who is literally the walking poster-child for tall, dark, and handsome, takes a seat between Nat and me. He hangs a satchel over the back of the chair and pulls out a gorgeous cream sweater with an orange and blue star pattern across the chest. A moment later I realize that it’s not a store-bought sweater, but one he’s actually knitting.
“Oh my God, you’re Dylan Wolfson. I read your feature in the Times on men with needles. What was it called? Cocky Crafting?”
A slight reddish-tinge appears on Dylan’s cheeks. “They liked the alliteration, I guess.”
The girls laugh, but the guys groan.
“Dylan is always trying to steal the spotlight from us,” Graham complains. “You pull out the knitting to make us look like losers.”
“Speak for yourself. I’ve won a Super Bowl,” says Kaden. But then he turns to Dylan. “You could dial down the whole ‘I’m an enlightened man who creates clothes with two sticks’ thing.”
“I could, but where would the fun be in that?” Dylan counters.
That draws a laugh from me which, in turn, earns a growl from Brooks.
“I thought you were coming to plan a way to save Slater’s reputation,” he says to the big crowd.
“What about The Plate?” Graham asks.
“It will recover on its own.” He sounds confident as he passes out an extra set of glasses, pitchers of lemonade and iced tea, a carafe of coffee, and a banana and cocoa coffee cake.
The rest of them nod. It’s probably true. Brooks’s food is so good that people won’t be able to stay away.