Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Why?” Our gazes meet again. “Am I going to Russia myself this time?”
Mirth meanders through his expression. “You wanna go?”
“Can we skip the part where you break into a Boyevik’s home to return his daughter to her mother in the states before assisting in their relocation to Canada?”
“I mean if you want,” he chortles on a small shrug. “But if you ask me – not Blu – that was the most fun part of that trip.” This time chuckles leave us both. “I honestly don’t know what else we’d do while we were there.” I’m flashed a theatrical cringe. “Guess we could catch a hockey game, but I really think we should do that here first.” Slater throws his hands up in a playful surrender. “But it’s totally up to you. You know I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go, Angel Cake.”
Does that include my bedroom?
His?
Maybe just the backseat of his truck I’ve overheard too much about from women around the office?
Rather than lean into that line of questioning, I pull my cooling cappuccino back to my lips. “And where is Blu? You know at least half that cake is his.”
“A slice.”
My gaze transposes to a good-natured glare. “A third.”
“Two slices.” Slater defiantly folds his arms across his chest. “Best offer I got.”
Snickers and headshakes leave me in tandem. “We both know those cakes are one of the main reasons he insists on working with you.”
“You mean only reason.”
“Nah. You’re too much fun to not wanna be around.”
Faint redness coats his cheeks during an almost bashful beam. “If you uh…if you say so, Angel Cake.”
The shakiness of the floating words combined with their baby blue shade leads to me having another sip in an attempt to pretend I don’t notice the uncertainty in the air.
Does he…does he really doubt that?
Does he really doubt that that’s one of the reasons women are always looking for excuses to stick around his life? I mean…yeah…it probably…most certainly…has something to do with the other hotter…stickier…activity…but women can get good dick anywhere – or so I’ve overheard. Most women only hound a guy that hard when he has more to offer.
When they want more than they’ve been offered.
However, these are purely observational reports.
I haven’t had enough experience in my life to brand that shit as facts.
Two boyfriends and one accidental fling – I thought we were going to be more – isn’t a substantial amount of information to create an accurate analysis with.
“Why the interrogation on Blu?” His crystal coloring evens back out. “You got somethin’ for us?”
“You guys just got back!”
“And?”
“And I haven’t even been sent authorization for you to be back up for assignments yet.”
“Yeah, but you can look past that.”
“Not when you literally fail to cross your Ts and dot your Is on your analysis paperwork more than any other operative I’ve ever met.”
“I’m not that bad.”
“You are so that bad.”
“I’m kinda that bad,” he warmly concedes on a chuckle, “but let’s pretend that I’m not and tell me what’s on the docket.”
“No clue.” One leg crosses over the other. “I’m running a little behind schedule because I was flagging some discrepancies I stumbled across.”
“How behind?”
“We’re talking, I just made it intel before Reynold’s Clydesdaled his ass in here to complain about assignments.”
“Bet my truck after our little heart to heart that he doesn’t make that mistake twice.”
“Heart to heart?” I snicker between sips. “Is that what that was?”
“That’s what we’re gonna call it.”
Additional laughter reverberates around my private office overpowering the faint tunes of Panic! at the Disco pumping through my speaker system.
“I’m gonna grab my cake and let you get back to sortin’ plans on how to save the world-”
“Like an anti-Pinky and The Brain?”
“Your heads not that big.”
“But you think I’m that brilliant?”
“I know you’re that brilliant.”
It’s my turn to board the don’t blush struggle bus.
“Before I go…I uh…I wanted to run somethin’ by you first.”
Seeing flickers of the baby blue penetrating his speech again prompts me to put my beverage down and sit up attentively. “Shoot.”
“I know first night home typically means takeout at your place and STN for all the best hockey highlights-”
“Hot goss.”
“News.”
“The eyebrow raising relationship status of our current Dragons owner is totally more goss than news.”
“Yeah, but trackin’ trades and injuries is more news than goss.” He immediately scoffs. “I can’t believe you jus’ got me to say the word goss.” A slow headshake is accompanied by a gag. “I hope you know they’ll have my man card if that shit gets out.”
Giggling is a mindless response. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“It better fuckin’ be.” His grin is briefly flashed once more. “First night home typically means that or action movie roulette-”
“I’m out of tequila.”
“Noted.” His smile falls to a nervous position yet again. “But…would um…Would you mind if we postponed that shit a day?” Surprise cracks my jaw just an inch, something that pushes him to swiftly explain, “It’s jus’ I’ve got this date scheduled and that I didn’t realize was scheduled because Aviva told her college roommate that I’d be available because I’d be home – not botherin’ to verify I didn’t have other plans – and since we’d already pushed the shit back four times because of work Aviva – again – just assumed it’s what I’d want and-”