Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“You bet.”
When we walk into a boutique, Falcon almost has to drag Preston to where the bras are. “What size do you like?”
“How would I know. I don’t wear them,” Preston answers, his cheeks already bright red.
“Come on, work with us here,” Mason says as he goes to stand on the other side of Preston. “Do you like them big, or a handful, or a mouthful.”
I cover my mouth when Preston looks like he’s about to have a seizure. Then he mumbles, “Normal sizes ones.”
I snort and quickly cover it up by faking a cough.
Falcon grabs a lace bra in one of the bigger sizes. “How about this size? You can bury your face between them.”
“Dear Lord,” Preston groans and the pained expression on his face has me cracking up.
I walk to the smaller sizes and take five comfortable looking ones.
“How do you know her size?” Mason suddenly asks.
I make sure they’re all the right size, then answer, “I hugged her.”
Mason grins at me, “What? Do you have ta-ta sensors in your chest?”
“Ta-ta?” Falcon asks.
“That’s what Kingsley calls them. Kinda grew on me.”
I wag my eyebrows at the guys, “Told you I’m special.”
I get some underwear then go set them down on the counter so I can move onto the clothes.
Soon Mason and Falcon give up on teaching Preston about breast sizes, and they also jump in, grabbing clothes until the poor shop attendant looks like she’s overheating from trying to keep up with us.
After paying and giving her the address so they can have it all delivered, we walk out of the boutique and glancing up and down the street, I ask, “Next, toiletries. Are you guys ready?”
“Let’s do this,” Mason says, looking like he’s on an unstoppable roll.
“And you said you hated shopping,” I mumble under my breath. “You’re worse than the girls.”
He darts my way, which has me running away. When he comes after me, I start to yell, “Help! There’s a madman after me. Help!”
“Shut the fuck up,” Mason shouts from behind me.
I only make it around to the corner before he grabs hold of my shirt, yanking me backward. I take a breath to yell again, but he slaps his hand over my mouth.
“Shut up,” he says while laughing. “People are going to call the police.”
A couple of seconds later, Preston comes jogging toward us, “Falcon can’t walk.”
“Why?” I ask, and when I glance up the street, I crack up laughing when I see Falcon leaning against a display window, trying to keep himself up while he laughs so hard he can’t even make a sound.
“He’s going to piss himself,” Mason chuckles.
“Yeah, then the police are totally going to buy my madman story.” Mason wacks me upside the head. “And now I can add abuse.”
Mason is midway between Falcon and me, when he stops and shouts, “Let’s get Falcon so we can go buy tampons.”
“Dear Lord,” Preston mumbles but at least he’s smiling.
“You’ve leveled up. Good for you,” I say, patting him on the shoulder.
“Leveled up to what?” he asks, coming after me as I walk toward Falcon.
Chapter 8
Lee
Kingsley introduced me to Chef Anand, who didn’t look very friendly, but he’s making ramen for us, so I really don’t care.
A waiter places little ceramic chopstick rests on the table, and then sets down the chopsticks. When he comes back with a tray of side dishes, and I actually recognize them, I cover my mouth with surprise. “Daebak!”
I glance up at him to thank him, but he smiles saying, “Chef Anand apologizes for not being able to serve you kimchi with today’s meal. He’s prepared a spicy cabbage salad instead.” The waiter gestures to the dishes as he names them, “Pa-jun with scallions. Gyeran-mari, we’ve substituted the seaweed with spinach. And lastly, sigeumchi namul.”
I bow my head, totally overwhelmed by their kindness. “Thank you.”
The waiter comes back out with three bowls of ramen. After he sets one down in front of me, I almost cry with relief just from how good it looks and smells.
“Jal meogeosseumnida,” I whisper before I pick up my chopsticks.
“What did you just say?” Layla asks.
“I will eat well. It’s like saying thank you for the food.”
“How do I hold these things?” Kingsley asks.
“Position them like this in your hand.” I show them how I hold mine. “I use my middle finger to move the bottom one, but go with whichever finger works best for you.”
They both try and manage to get a bite of noodles into their mouths.
Not able to hold out any longer, I begin to eat, and I close my eyes as the rich, spicy taste hits my tongue.
“Oh my gosh,” Kingsley moans. “It’s burning the crap out of my mouth, but it’s so good.”
Out of habit, I reach for a gyeran-mari, and placing it in Kingsley’s bowl, I say, “Try this. It’s egg roll with vegetables in it.”