Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 117740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
My brother paled. “Wh—why? That’s not fair!”
“Neither is it fair for the rescue centres who have to pick up the pieces of lazy arse owners like you.” She dug in her bag and pulled out an appointment card, then tossed it at him. “Eight-thirty a.m. Next Tuesday. If you forget, I’ll put you on my operating table and take your balls. Either way, I’m removing a pair of testicles next week.”
He raised his beer to his lips and averted his eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there.”
I turned to my best friend. “You’re scary.”
She grabbed the wine bottle and refilled my glass. “Shut up and drink. I didn’t come here to lecture your brother, although that is a bonus. I came here to find out why the duke reduced you to silence earlier when you first met.”
“I was momentarily drowning in an overwhelming wave of hatred for such a pompous git,” I replied.
And definitely not remembering the sight of his head between my legs.
No, siree.
Not me. Not my inner hussy.
Sigh.
“I didn’t think he was that bad.” Isa paused. “Surprisingly flirty with you, though.”
Jake choked on his beer. “What kind of weirdo would be flirty with my sister?”
I’d be offended if he didn’t make an excellent point.
It wasn’t like my love life was some kind of intense rave. If I was being honest, it was a stretch to refer to it as a ‘love life.’
It was more a casual, regretful sex life.
Especially right now. I was drowning in a big, huge, massive, ginormous bucket of regret.
It tasted just like my hangover would tomorrow morning.
“I’m telling you; he was definitely flirting.” Isa tapped her nails against the table. “Why else wouldn’t he be interested in me when I was right there?”
Shaun peered at her out of the corner of his eye. “Isadora, your narcissism is showing.”
She held up her middle finger without looking at him. “You know him, don’t you?”
I blinked. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Rose.”
I turned away, staring at the wall.
“Rosie Posieeeee,” she sang, grinning at me. “All you’re doing is getting me interested.”
“Call me that again. Go on. I dare you.” I glared at her and gulped down a huge mouthful of wine. “If you value your life, you’ll never say such a thing again.”
“Ugh.”
Shaun sighed. “I know what’s going on here.” He turned to Jake and cocked his thumb over his shoulder. “You should leave if you don’t want to hear anything that’ll traumatise you for life.”
Jake looked between us before wrinkling his face up in disgust. “Thanks for the nightmare fuel. I’m off. I’m not interested in listening to her debauchery.”
My nostrils flared. “Debauchery? Why you little—”
Isa grabbed my arm and forced me to sit back down. “Your temper is out of control. It’s incredible you’re ever calm enough to engage in any debauchery at all.”
“I’ll give you debauchery, Isadora.”
“Please stop saying ‘debauchery,’” Shaun said. “It’s not the eighteen hundreds.”
“Has the meaning of the word changed since then?” Isa asked.
“No, but—”
“Oh, my God, be quiet.” I buried my face in my hands. “We’re just going around in circles with this conversation.”
Isa sniffed. “Every conversation we have goes in circles. It’s why we’ve never had a constructive one in twenty years.”
That was sadly true.
Jake left us to it in the kitchen, and the moment he was out of earshot, I slumped forwards on the table with a groan.
I really didn’t want to say it out loud.
“Rose.” Isa steepled her fingers in front of her and stared at me intently a-la Mr Burns from The Simpsons. “How exactly do you know the new duke?”
I had to say it out loud.
I sighed. “He fucked my brains out two weeks ago.”
Shaun slammed his glass down on the table and choked. He covered his mouth with his hand as he sputtered into his palm, and Isa reached over to thump him on the back.
Was it really that shocking?
“Did you have to put it so bluntly?” Shaun asked after a moment.
“How else should I put it?” I replied. “That we engaged in coitus? Partook in premarital activities?”
He stared at me.
“Tossed the hotdog down the hallway,” Isa offered.
I snapped my fingers in her direction. “Did the bedtime slip’n’slide.”
“Planted the parsnip.”
“Fed the kitty.”
“Stuffed the taco.”
“Buried the bone.”
“Slammed the ham.”
I paused. “Why are all your sex euphemisms food-related?”
Isa shrugged. “I think you should be asking why yours aren’t.”
That was never a question I would ask myself. Ever. Literally ever.
‘Slammed the ham’ was a phrase I could have lived without ever hearing.
“Why am I here?” Shaun asked, looking between us. “I wish I could unhear the last sixty seconds of my life.”
“Well, you two wanted to know how I know the duke, so there you are.” I finished the rest of my wine and held out my hands, then reached for the vodka bottle. “Do you remember how I took that job at that big rich estate owned by that author two weeks ago?”