Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“I appreciate the heads up. But don’t worry about me. I’m that bitch, Ruby Tuesday, remember? And I’m dressed to kill.” I wink. “I assure you, Mr. Rivers, Ruby Tuesday’s not nearly as sweet as she looks.”
19
RUBY
“Holy fuck, baby,” Savage says, as Laila and I approach him and Kendrick with Reed in tow. “Someone’s getting fucked tonight.”
Laila laughs. “You look pretty fuckable yourself, my love.”
“You’re looking stunning, too, Ruby,” Savage says. “But I’ll let Kendrick—”
“You look gorgeous,” Kendrick interjects, cutting off whatever Savage was about to say. “Wow, Ruby. That’s quite a dress.”
“I’m here, too,” Laila deadpans.
“You look beautiful, too,” Kendrick says to Laila. But he barely looks at her.
Flushing hot under Kendrick’s intense gaze, I run my palms down my barely covered tits. “I was nervous to wear this, but Laila convinced me.”
“Thank you, Laila,” Kendrick says, sending tingles shooting down my skin.
Reed says hello to the guys, and conversation ensues, but I’m too flustered to take part. For one thing, Kendrick is staring at me like his tongue is dragging on the floor. He’s never done that before. And for another, he looks damned hot himself. Like a five-course meal. Almost as hot as when he waltzed past me in a towel the other day.
Lord have mercy, I thought I was going to pass out several times at the sight of Kendrick’s bare torso this past week, but never more so than when he was in a towel, dripping wet. I had to force myself to stare at the TV to prevent myself from saying or doing something disastrous for our friendship.
Now, if Kendrick were to make a move on me first, would I say yes to that? At this point, I can’t deny the truthful answer is yes, our friendship be damned. But me making the first move? That’s impossible. Totally out of the question.
“Hello, my pretties!” a female voice booms. It’s Nadine, and she’s dressed to the nines. “You all look gorgeous. Any questions before we begin in exactly five minutes?”
I look around. “Where’s Cooper?”
“He’s being held in a different room.”
Our foursome exchanges a look. One that says, They’re going to milk this love triangle for all its worth. Too bad for Nadine, however, Kendrick and I have already decided there’s no bonus in the world worth playing up a fake relationship and making our personal life part of a soap opera. We’re both excited to make the most of this professional opportunity while having fun with each other and our good friends, but we’re determined not to say or do anything too helpful to the producers’ storyline.
Luckily, from what Eli told us after speaking to Cooper’s agent, it seems Cooper feels the same way. We’re not friends any longer, Cooper and me. To put it mildly. And God knows, Cooper would love to beat Kendrick in some way. But in terms of the show itself, we’re all planning to play it cool and focus on the reason we’re here: our shared love of music. At least, that’s what Cooper’s agent told Eli. Hopefully, that’s accurate, and Reed’s warning to me earlier wasn’t necessary.
“Hello, everyone!” the host of the show, Sunshine Vaughn, bellows loudly in the next room, greeting whatever entertainment reporters and influencers are out there to capture this puff-piece of a “press conference.”
As a smattering of greetings and whoops rise up in reply, a production assistant whispers to our foursome to wait for our cue. When we reach the designated spot, nerves grip me like a vise, and I let out a long, shaky exhale that immediately prompts Kendrick to grab my hand and give it a good squeeze.
To my surprise, my body jolts at his touch. In a good way. He’s never held my hand before. At least, not that I recall. I’ve ridden his back lots of times. Usually while drunk. I’ve used his broad shoulder as a pillow. But when I do that, I’m passed out through most of it. I’ve also linked my arm in his, either when I’m cold and trying to siphon off his body heat or when we’re walking with a big group and chatting, and it just feels right. And, of course, most recently, I’ve lain down next to Kendrick to help him sleep. Stroked his face and hair. Hell, I’ve even kissed him for a camera. But despite all those times, I can’t deny the simple touch of his large, calming hand enfolding mine in a moment of stress is causing my nerve endings to zip and zap while my heart pitter-pats.
“And now, without further ado,” Sunshine booms from the next room. “Let’s bring in our favorite married couple and reveal the two guest mentors they’ve selected! Folks, it’s the King and Queen of Sing Your Heart Out, Mr. and Mrs. Savage—Adrian Savage and his beautiful wife, Laila Fitzgerald!”