Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“And you have your own couch in your own house.”
I hold the phone in front of me and re-read the headline beside Ashley’s profile picture.
CONTEST: WIN A DATE TO MY HONEYMOON
A slow smile slips across my lips. “What the hell is she doing?”
“I don’t know. Is it a joke?”
“Maybe?”
I read the post again—slower this time.
But what’s not canceled is the nonrefundable, ten-thousand-dollar all-inclusive vacation at a luxury resort and I’m not about to let it go to waste.
Okay, that sounds like Ashley. It’s logical. Makes sense.
… it would be much more fun to go with someone …
Probably true. But what does that have to do with a contest?
I’m letting my friends choose someone to honeymoon with me …
She’s what?
No way.
… okay with sharing a bed …
I suck in a breath. Goose bumps ripple across my forearms as I hand Banks his phone back.
She’s going on her honeymoon with someone that Sara and Rebecca are choosing from applications?
I have to laugh. That’s a total Sara thing to do. I’m just surprised Ashley is going along with it.
This is what she was talking about in the text—that Sara was a bad influence. And this is the trip she’s been talking about. Why didn’t she tell me?
“What do you think about that?” Banks asks, setting the phone on the table.
“I don’t know.” A chuckle escapes my lips. “I’m a little shocked. A little curious.”
“Same. Sounds like it could be a good time for the right candidate.”
“Are you guys talking about Ashley’s Social post?” Jess walks in, tugging his shirt over his head.
My brows pull together. “When did you see it?”
He grins. “Five minutes ago, when Banks sent it to me.”
I look down at my younger brother and catch his grin. Instead of saying something to him about it, I press my elbow into the back of his neck as I walk to his other side.
“Ouch! Fucker,” he says, rubbing his palm beneath his hairline.
“Are you guys applying?” Jess asks, taking a bottle of water out of Mom’s fridge. “Because I agree with Banks. Looks like it could be a good time.”
My jaw sets as I watch him take a drink. Even though he’s tipping the bottle back, I still see his smirk.
“You know, I do have all of those pictures …” Banks’s eyes go wide as he catches himself from spilling his secret to Jess. “I mean, I have a lot of pictures.”
He looks at me, pleading with me not to say anything and foil his plan.
“Didn’t you just tell me you took a bunch of new pictures at work?” I ask. “That there was a photo shoot or something.”
“No. I didn’t.” He glares at me before turning to Jess. “I’m applying.”
I scoff, triggered by his announcement. “The hell you are.”
Jess laughs. “See? Banks can be her rebound.”
“Fuck off, Jess.”
“Yeah,” Banks says, smartly getting up and walking to the other side of the kitchen next to our brother. “I’ll be her rebound. I can imagine her on a beach, in a bikini, rebounding on this dick.”
I roll my eyes, trying desperately not to let my annoyance bleed through to my face.
“I might apply too,” Jess says, taunting me. “I saw her checking me out the other day in your office.”
You wish.
“Go ahead,” I say, even though it pains me to utter the phrase. “She wouldn’t pick either of you anyway.”
Banks shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve always felt a connection with her.”
“You are such a liar,” I say, my jaw tensing again. “Stop fucking with me.”
Jess leans against the bar. “Why would Banks saying that be fucking with you, Mad?”
I face them and think. Why would it be fucking with me?
It’s fucking with me because I’ve been thinking about her since she got home. Because I’m texting her randomly throughout the day and I check my phone to see if she’s texted me. It’s fucking with me because she’s fucking with me—even though she doesn’t mean to.
Ashley doesn’t need those two goofs screwing with her vacation. She just broke her engagement, for fuck’s sake. She doesn’t need their bullshit too.
But she doesn’t need some random guy sharing her fucking bed either.
“He’s scared she’d pick one of us over him and he’d have to watch his little crush board a jet to paradise with a bagful of bikinis on our arm,” Banks says, mocking me.
“You want to fight?” I ask.
He grins. “If you’re feeling froggy, leap.”
I chuckle, running a hand over my jaw.
Those two fuckers will send an email to Becca and Sara. They’ll do it just to spite me.
“Tell ya what, Banksy,” I say. “Instead of breaking your nose like you’re asking for, I’ll send an email myself. We’ll just see who she picks. Cool?”
“You both realize that she’s not picking, right? It’s her friends that are choosing her date,” Jess points out.
Banks and I don’t pay any attention to him.