Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
I don’t know a whole helluva lot about women, but I know when one has her panties in a twist, and for whatever reason, Tess is suddenly being salty.
“Are you sayin’ you wanted us to notice you?”
And by us, I mean me, but I’m not gonna come outright and say it. I’m not gonna assume she…you know, wanted me to notice her. Nah, that’s crazy talk.
She didn’t.
Instead, Tess shrugs. “Whatever, I was young.”
“Sooo…is that a yes?”
For real, spell it out for me because I’m a guy and kind of an idiot sometimes. Unless it’s black or white, I don’t see gray very often. Most guys don’t.
Isn't it easier to just say what’s on your mind, rather than beating around the bush?
“I don’t know. Probably.” She’s got her back to me, trying to act all casual. “Like I said, I was young.”
“Fair enough.” It answers my question, but not really. Like I said, I’m curious, but it’s not my personality to pry deeper. I barely know Tess.
Well maybe you should get to know her. That’s how friendships form, numbnuts.
Friendship? Really, dude, that’s where your head is at?
My head—my eyes—do that traveling thing where they soak in her backside, enjoying the view of those smooth legs I sat so close to and know were freshly shaved.
No, friendship is not where my head is at, but Tess is Grady’s sister. We’ve never technically talked about Tess being off-limits to date, but I’ve heard him tell other guys to leave her alone, and that conversation is not something I want any part of.
I don’t think.
Do I?
No.
CHAPTER 12
TESS
MY BOYFRIEND IS SO HANDSOME AND SEXY, LOOKING ALL INVISIBLE AND SHIT.
“Are you sayin’ you wanted us to notice you?”
Do you have any idea how hard it was to answer that honestly? Or at least, imply that I had, in fact, wanted him to notice me.
Yes, my response was wussy, but it’s not like I’ll come right out and admit to his face that I had a crush on him when I was young.
He’s not much older than I am, but it always felt like lightyears. In reality, it’s two. I’m two years younger than Drew and three years younger than Grady.
I should have flat-out said yes.
I should have flat-out been like, “Yes, I wanted you to notice me.”
But I didn’t, and I was vague, and now he’s not going to know I had a hard-on for him while I was still that brace-faced kid.
No, not a kid.
A teenager with good taste.
Drew has always been a good catch and, from what I’ve seen and heard, a good boyfriend.
To my knowledge, he hasn’t had many girlfriends, but those he did have never had anything nasty to say about him after their breakups. And Grady has certainly never talked shit about him. Plus, he’s adorable.
If you can call someone over six foot two adorable.
Which I do.
If I thought Drew was cute when we were teenagers, he could only be described as hot now. Prime grade A hot man meat.
Stop it. You did not just call him that.
I’m sorry, but HELLO, have you seen his arms in that shirt?
He was supposed to get off that plane looking like a scrub or a slob, and he was supposed to do me a favor by being a bit of a douche. But he’s none of those things. If anything, he’s gotten better looking because he’s more of a man now than a child.
What would he do if I…
…flirted with him?
Just a little?
Not that I’m good at flirting, but…
Just once.
Or twice.
It couldn’t hurt, right? Plus, he’s leaving tomorrow, and I won’t see him again for who knows how long. He isn’t invited to Lucas’s wedding, just the bachelor party tonight, so the odds are favorable. He and his brother play in the Bowl game during the holidays, so he’s usually not home then, either.
“I was young,” I repeat. “But I’m not young anymore.”
I flip my hair over my shoulder, then glance over it, giving him the most coy smile I can muster.
Shit.
Alcohol would help.
But you’re not a day drinker, Tess.
No time like the present to become one. Ha!
Drew is watching me, his expression unwavering and hard to read.
Serious.
Always so serious…
It’s his turn to put his ball through the little Dutch windmill, and I saunter up behind him as he bends to swing, tapping him on the ass with my putting stick or racket or club or whatever this is called.
I tap him right in the butt crack, pleased when he startles, and his ball flies off course. It ricochets off the spinning wheel, then flies to the right, bounces, and rolls to a stop back at his feet.
I smirk.
“What’d you do that for?” he grumbles.
“I was teasing you.” Duh. “Had to see how unflappable you are.”
“Unflappable? What’s that mean?”
I’m not sure what the definition is, but I’m pretty sure it means unfazed. That sounds about right.