Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“You know, I can reply to those. I also have pictures and videos of the cake”—I jerked my head toward the Jeep—“and a witness who will state it was delivered on time.”
But now she was looking beyond me, and I knew what she was seeing because her mouth had dropped open and her nipples were now poking at her tight, Lululemon track top.
I sighed.
“Problem here?” Gabe asked from behind me.
“No,” she said quickly.
“She’s not a fan of completing our agreement by paying the remainder on delivery,” I told him.
Gabe stared into my eyes a millisecond before he looked to her.
“You’ll be doing that about now,” he told her.
“As I explained to Willow, I’m a little behind, so I’ll be happy to Venmo the rest to her after the party. Latest, tomorrow morning,” she said, now all smiles and flirtatious glances.
“That’s not the way this goes,” Gabe told her, like he’d memorized my policies and personally wrote my contract.
“Okay,”—she leaned her tall, svelte frame on the doorjamb of her three-million-dollar house, and the bitch actually batted her (semi-permanent fake) eyelashes at him—“you got me. My husband gave me a budget, and I exceeded it a little bit. I just have to—”
“Let’s go,” Gabe cut her off and rounded me, putting a hand in the small of my back as he did, so I had no choice but to turn and start moving toward the driveway seeing as he was pushing me that way.
“Wait! You can’t go!” she called, and I could tell she was following us. “What will Chrysanthemum do for a cake?”
“Go to Costco,” Gabe said toward the Jeep.
“Costco?” Her voice sounded horrified.
Gabe opened the passenger door then took the cake from me so I could get in.
“Okay, okay, okay,” she said, standing with us and unwedging her phone from where it was shoved in the skintight fabric at the thigh of her leggings. “I’ll Venmo now.”
“You need to add a ten percent hassle fee to your contract, babe,” Gabe remarked in my direction.
The Arcadia Squad member made a wounded pip at being called a hassle by a hot guy.
Bet she’d never experienced that before.
I pressed my lips together in an effort not to laugh.
My phone in my crossbody vibrated, I pulled it out and saw the Venmo notification.
“Thank you so much,” I told her.
Gabe handed her the cake.
It was ultra hilarious to see how bad she wanted to scorch me with a glare but couldn’t because I was standing next to one of the top ten hotties in Phoenix (and he worked with the other nine—or, actually, twelve).
“I’m sure Mumsy will love it,” she forced out to me.
Good Lord, she called her five-year-old Mumsy.
You won. Be gracious, not bitchy, Dreamer called me on it.
But…Mumsy? Logic demanded.
“In, babe,” Gabe grunted at me.
I turned to the Jeep, got a handhold, a foothold, and angled myself up. Though, this time I was helped when Gabe’s hands came to my hips, and he hefted me in.
At his touch and the easy display of his strength, my breath took a hike, and my ass landed in the seat.
He slammed the door and rounded the hood while I concentrated on getting my lungs working again. It took as long as it took him to get in, both of us to buckle up and Gabe to start us on our way for me to best that endeavor.
I looked back at Chrysanthemum’s mom to see she’d definitely watched us load up and take off, because she was only now walking up to the house (so much for being in a rush and behind on things), doing it watching the Jeep drive away.
“If that ninny doesn’t pay attention to where she’s going, trips and ruins my cake, I’m going to lose my shit,” I told the window.
“Ninny?”
She made it into the house, thank God.
When she did, I faced forward, explaining, “I don’t want to say bitch, because she’s a bitch, but I don’t want to be the sister who calls a bitch a bitch.”
“You women have some really weird fuckin’ rules,” he muttered.
I turned to him. “Well, it isn’t nice.”
“Babe, a man’s a dick, I’m gonna call him a dick. He’s a clown, I’m gonna call him a clown. He’s an asshole, I’m gonna call him an asshole. I’m not letting the brotherhood down by calling them as they are. And you aren’t letting the sisterhood down either. A woman of means contracts for custom from a small business owner and then tries to jack her around because she fucked up on her budget and is gonna piss off her husband because he knows he’s already paying way too much for her highlights or whatever is not you letting the sisterhood down. It’s her doing it. And not one of the three of us was unaware that bitch had no intention of settling up.”