Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“Stand aside and no funny business,” I called out.
I inched the door open and held out the chips. He snatched them immediately. Next came the salsa. He took that too. I slipped the beer through the narrow gap before slamming and locking the door again.
“Whoa! There are five more brewskis where this baby came from, not to mention eggs, apples, bacon, chicken, Pop-Tarts—”
“You shouldn’t eat Pop-Tarts. They’re bad for you,” I intercepted, leaning against the jamb.
“You’re trying my patience, Shakespeare. I can’t remember if I bought tequila, but if I did, you might want to pass that out now too. I need a shot.”
My lips quirked as I slid to the floor with my back pressed to the door. “I didn’t see any tequila earlier. Sorry.”
“That’s what you’re sorry for? At least slip me a bottle opener.”
“There’re a dozen bottle openers downstairs, Ezra.”
Commence the unmistakable sound of teeth grating on metal.
“Never mind. I got it. Where’s the rest of my stuff?”
He gulped his beer, tore the bag open, and crunched on a chip. He must have been leaning against the door too, because I could hear him chewing and I swore it sounded like we were in the same room.
“In here.”
“Ah, good to know you didn’t eat it all or sell it,” he huffed, chomping away. “You can’t leave the milk out all day, you know.”
“I have a cooler. But don’t worry…I’ll put it all away. Soon.” I sighed.
“So…was there a point to your kleptomania? I know it has something to do with our bet, but I don’t see how your bad behavior is supposed to make me lose.” Chomp, chomp. “Unless you thought I’d get so pissed I’d strip naked, do a lap around the house, and toss those dumbass throw pillows on the ground before licking your favorite coffee mug.”
I furrowed my brow. “Lick my favorite coffee mug? Gross. Have you ever done that?”
Ezra chuckled. “Jesus, Holden. No. You really think I’m a mug licker? Ew. Never mind. That sounded weird.”
“I wouldn’t put anything past you.”
“Yet I’m the idiot sitting outside your door while you hold my groceries hostage. One of us has stooped to a new low, and I don’t think it’s me.”
I closed my eyes briefly. Ugh. He was right.
I heaved myself to my feet, unlocked the door, and opened it with a flourish.
And boom…
Ezra fell inside, splashing beer over his face and shirt, and dumping half a bag of chips all over my floor.
“Oh, snapdragons!”
He scrambled to his knees, clutching the chips and blinking beer from his eyelashes. He slowly set the bottle on my desk along with the chips and the container of salsa that had rolled in next to him before drawing his hand over his face.
“I think I’m having a bad day,” he deadpanned.
For some reason, that struck me as kind of funny. Maybe even a tad hilarious.
Laughter bubbled and sputtered to the surface, bursting out of me in a noisy guffaw that turned into a nonstop giggle fest. It took a full minute for me to get hold of myself. Ezra’s bedraggled state, the cooler, and the effort I’d put into a ridiculous prank, and…God help me, Marlon. This was not a good day.
But as the saying goes, if you don’t laugh, you cry. I chose to laugh.
I sidled around him to grab a washcloth and towel from the bathroom across the hall, handing them over with a sobering hiccup.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks,” he grumbled.
“I’m sorry, Ezra. I’m not skilled at the art of high jinks and tomfoolery. I shouldn’t have confiscated your food. Please forgive me.”
“Hmph. I’ll think about it.”
He swiped the washcloth over his face and forearms, scrunching his nose as if still dissatisfied with the results. And of course, I had a pretty good idea where that would lead.
Sure enough, he tugged his polo shirt over his head, and dropped it next to the cooler.
I rolled my eyes as I perched on the corner of my bed. “Any excuse to take your clothes off, eh?”
“Now that you mention it, my pants are a little damp.” He made quick work of his khakis, toeing off his shoes and socks. In seconds flat, he was standing in the middle of my bedroom in a pair of black boxer briefs that lovingly cupped his generous package.
Don’t look, don’t look.
I averted my gaze to the elaborate ink design on his torso for a beat and shook my head. No one else on the planet got away with randomly stripping quite like Ezra. He filled every space he entered, conquering unsuspecting citizens with relentless perseverance and jockish charm. I wished I could report that I was immune, but that was a lie.
I was too worn out to fight my body’s amorous reaction. I wasn’t overly concerned, though. I’d never thrown myself at a straight man and I certainly wasn’t about to start now. However…