Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
She shrugs. “I’ll take what I can get. Want to hear the best part?” She keeps rolling, not waiting for my answer. “I’m wearing a suit! Pants, collared shirt, tie, and all. Though mine is slim-fit thanks to Mrs. Hinsley’s magic.”
“It’ll look amazing,” Avery agrees, offering Wren a warm smile. But when she turns back to me, her smile melts incrementally, making me wonder what Winston has told her about me. Or maybe it’s that I’m still more naked than dressed.
“You’re welcome,” Mrs. Hinsley answers Wren’s compliment, never stopping her measuring and now getting dangerously close to my junk on the other leg as she checks my inseam. “Hmm.”
Cara looks down, checking to see what’s wrong—which is nothing, because there’s nothing wrong with my legs or my dick. “Oh my! Is that real? Can you allot room for that?” She’s talking to Mrs. Hinsley as though I’m not standing right here and she’s not talking about my dick.
“It’s real alright. Been staring me in the face for the last ten minutes,” Mrs. Hinsley replies.
Are they really talking about my dick size? I mean, I’m not monstrous like some porn star, but I’m bigger than the average man, I guess. Never tried to compare.
I eye the door, looking for an escape route out of this awkwardness. But find only Wren fighting off a severe case of the giggles.
“Don’t even think about it. This is important and you damn well know it,” she warns, reading my intentions.
“Yes, dear. It’s fine,” Mrs. Hinsley says, patting my thigh comfortingly, as though it’s not weird as fuck. “You heard Wren. I’m a magician and I’ll make your slacks fit you to perfection.” She kisses the air, putting her thumb and fingers together and then popping them apart in a chef’s kiss motion.
I try to cover back up, but Mrs. Hinsley slaps my hand out of the way. “Seriously, dear. Be mature, please. I don’t give a rat’s ass about your penis. I simply need to dress you properly because everyone knows I’m the tailor for the Ford nuptials.”
My eyes roll back in my head as I stare unseeingly at the ceiling and try to breathe away the mortification.
It can’t get any worse, Wyatt. Let her finish and get out of here. We’ll threaten Wren that if she ever mentions this again, I’ll tell everyone about the time she peed her pants at school. Be cool, man.
The pep talk is working. A little. Right up until the door opens . . . again.
What the hell? Is this a fucking train station? It might as well be because it’s as busy as Grand Central!
“Oh! My! Heavens! Why . . . hello there.” A feminine voice of surprise turns to a purr.
Only able to look in the mirror, I see Hazel. She’s wearing jeans and a faded red T-shirt with a graphic so washed out that I can’t tell what it once was. Her face is different from last night, clear of any makeup, and her dark hair is piled on top of her head carelessly, leaving tendrils loose around her face.
She’s standing beside another woman, who has perfectly curled blonde hair and pristine makeup, and is wearing a modest skirt-and-blouse combo with heels. It’s the not-Hazel woman who’s spoken. She looks like she’s just stuck her tongue onto a nine volt battery.
I should be utterly mortified, or feel like a piece of meat, and I do. For a moment. But then I see Hazel’s eyes track down my body and back up, faster than a blink, and her cheeks pinken ever so slightly. That is all the influx of courage and confidence I need.
I take a deep breath, letting it swell my chest and spread my shoulders. I tighten my abs and widen my stance a tiny bit, making myself look as good as possible. I’m attractive, I know that. But even though I’m not a model, I know there are certain tricks to show your best features.
Dropping my voice and letting it go rough, I say, “Hello, ladies.” I greet both the newcomers, but my eyes are locked on Hazel’s in the mirror.
“Didn’t know you were the bachelorette-party entertainment. I would’ve skipped if I’d known,” Hazel answers bluntly, clearly putting up a shield.
“Hazel!” Avery squeals, aghast at the insult. “This is Wyatt, Winston’s brother. I’m afraid we’ve invaded his appointment. But Mrs. Hinsley will be done in a jiffy, and then she can do your final fittings.”
Hazel flicks her eyes to Avery, and I watch as her hard look softens for her friend. Oh, so there is a soul inside that tough exterior. I just don’t get that version of Hazel. Lucky me. “We’ve met,” she says. “He tried to shark me last night and then bailed when he realized I was better than him.”
“That is not what happened and you know it,” I taunt, giving her a smirk.