Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Ripley,” she says, but there’s resignation in her voice. She knows I’m right. She sighs but then brightens in excitement. As the sound of shoes crunching on gravel grows louder, she says cheerily, “You can stay with grandma though.”
There’s a couch in my grandma’s garden suite, true. But I won’t use it. I shake my head. “I don’t want to bother her,” I say, then screw up the corner of my lips, thinking. How can I fix this problem quickly? That’s what I do. Solve problems.
And…I know. It’s obvious and easy enough. “I’ll just sleep on the couch in the living room. Someone else can have my room. It’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” Haven asks with a frown as the sound of footsteps grows louder.
In seconds, Banks appears by my side. “I couldn’t help but overhear. You can stay in the cottage.”
His deep, commanding voice sends a hot shiver down my spine.
Or maybe it’s the thought of being close to him in such a tiny space that’s lighting me up.
24
ALL MY FRIENDS ARE ASSHOLES
RIPLEY
My stomach is flipping with nerves. This is bad. So bad I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but I duck into my en suite bathroom a little later that evening, shut the door, and emergency text Chief Troublemaker and Number One Pain in the Ass.
Ripley: I need to talk, stat. For real.
Bridget: I’m on it. My assistant manager just arrived. Give me one minute to go to my office.
Chloe: I just finished a dog bath! I’m ready, wet shirt and all.
A minute later, we’re on a three-way video call, Bridget in her tiny office at the inn, Chloe walking down the quiet alley behind the doggie daycare, hair swept up in a high pony.
“Listen,” I say, cutting to the chase. “I need to tell you something, and don’t be assholes.”
Bridget straightens her shoulders. “Us, assholes? Never.”
“Shocking that I’d think you might be.”
Chloe adopts a robotic voice to match her robotic arm movements. “Anti-asshole mode activated.”
I breathe out, then begin my full confession. “That weekend I went to San Francisco with Haven? A month ago?” They nod. “I almost hooked up with Banks.”
Two pairs of eyes widen on the phone screen. I go on to explain what went down in painstaking detail. “And I didn’t tell you because…I felt stupid. Because…boys suck and all.”
“They can,” Bridget says, but she’s the diplomatic one, so she adds, “And so can girls.”
“But we’re talking about boys,” Chloe points out.
“Fine. They can suck,” Bridget acknowledges, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear.
“And I thought he was a jerk at first, so when it turned out he was my bodyguard, I was pissed. But he explained why he ran, and I got it. I did. And now it’s just…complicated,” I say, wincing because this afternoon made everything more complicated again.
To their credit, they don’t tease me this time. “Sounds like it,” Bridget says thoughtfully.
I release another big breath. This is hard for me. It’s so much easier to focus on someone else, but I feel untethered right now. “And then this afternoon when he drove me home—well, there was a dare, and we made out on the side of the road, and blah, blah, blah.”
Chloe holds up a hand. “Do not blah, blah, blah the orgasm.”
“Wait,” Bridget says, with fresh worry in her tone. “Did you not come? Is that why you’re calling? I’m sorry he didn’t give you an O, hon.”
“He gave me an O,” I say, heat racing all over me again as I picture the scene a few hours ago—my hands pinned behind me, Banks controlling my pleasure. “A fantastic one. But we agreed it was a mistake. He has to focus on his job and honestly, so do I. My job being making sure this shoot happens without a problem. But now there’s no room at the house, and he’s offered to let me stay in the cottage where he’s been staying, and I don’t know if I can handle it.”
Chloe squeals, then quickly rearranges her expression to a more serious one. “Sorry. I’m totally not excited for you. Why do you think you can’t handle it?”
Because I pride myself on handling anything and everything, but this is uncharted terrain. “I don’t know what to do. Do I stay with him or sleep on the floor or stay with you?” Escape has its appeal—as in, I need an escape from my libido.
“But if you stay with us, he’ll be here too. With you,” Bridget points out.
“True, true.”
“Also, don’t you want and need to be at the farmhouse?” Chloe asks, a helpful reminder.
I drop my head in my hand. “I do.” Then I draw a deep breath and raise my face. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I can handle some weird sexual tension. It’s no big deal. We’re adults sharing a small space. It happens all the time. It doesn’t mean we’re going to sleep together. We made a pact.”