Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Water in hand, I join Bradley’s cluster, and the groom motions me over. “Rhett, did you know Oakley is a savant?” He laughs, touching Oliver’s shoulder like he’s an aww shucks hillbilly windup toy he found on his trip.
Oliver pretends to be oblivious as Bradley makes him the punch line, but let’s be clear, Oliver is very aware they’re a bunch of pricks.
“A savant of what?” Heath chuckles into a swig of beer.
“Time and tech,” Oliver says, very seriously.
They snicker.
I couldn’t stand them an hour ago when they mimicked Oliver like he was a hick. Now I wish this were a job that’d end with them believing they’re getting arrested. Something that’d make them piss their pants at the very least. I swig the water, do a quick check on Phoebe, who’s still on the dance floor. She’s okay. Then back to Bradley, the groom.
“His daddy is also a tech whiz,” I say plainly. “He lives in Belle Meade.”
“Belle what?” Shane laughs.
“No, I’ve heard of it.” Bradley grows more interested. “Famous people live there, don’t they? Country singers?”
“Politicians, too.” I jerk my head toward Oliver. “If you’re lucky, Oak might show you the prototype his daddy’s been working on for years. The tech is worth more than you’ve ever seen.”
“Doubt that,” Bradley laughs, but his intrigue flits over Oliver. “You have the prototype on you?”
“Just for today.” Oliver shrugs like it’s no big deal, and before long, the groom and his closest friends gather around as Oliver shows off a watch with phone technology.
It doesn’t really work, but the tech industry is already projecting that watches will have the ability to make phone calls. It’ll likely be a staple in years to come.
Right now, the prototype is just a flashy tech advancement that we pretend to have thanks to my little brother. Trevor made this dupe. It can’t do anything but show the time. It looks fancy as fuck though, so when Oliver passes the watch to Bradley, I can’t let him actually play around with the thing.
I shove into Heath as I rotate to the bar.
Heath falls forward into Bradley.
“You all right, man?!” I shout, trying to help them up, but I trip over their legs, spilling water—adding to the confusion. I bring them down to the floor. Oliver has already dropped the watch. I hear the crunch. Because I step on it.
“Fuck, fuck!” Oliver shouts, shoving Bradley and Heath off the pile, and I stand and slide backward. “You broke it!” He accuses Bradley.
“I…what? No…” He’s slightly drunk, his glazed eyes drooping to the busted watch screen.
Oliver taps it. “It won’t even turn on anymore. Fuuuck. Fuck. Do you know how much this costs? Do you?”
“Man, man, shhh.” He puts his hands on Oliver’s shoulders. “I can pay for it. Don’t worry.”
“You don’t have it,” I cut in, shaking my head, then I scan my surroundings. Where the fuck is Shane?
“I have it. I have it,” Bradley assures, pulling out his wallet. “How much?”
My pulse is in my ears as soon as I see Shane chatting with Phoebe against the brick wall. He’s in her space with two more of Bradley’s friends. Her job is to distract the groom’s party, which she’s doing well.
I know this isn’t a task she loves tonight, despite being great at it, and I’ve been keeping most of them out of her reach. She’s holding the double shot of tequila he bought her, and every time they look our way, she skillfully draws their eyes back to her.
Go to her.
The instinct slams into me.
Don’t leave her.
“You don’t have a quarter mil,” Oliver retorts.
Bradley pales. “Uh, not on me, but I can get you enough.” He’s either afraid of looking poor or what he offers next is chump change to him. “I’ll write you a check for three hundred.”
“Grand?” Oliver clarifies.
“Of course.”
“That’ll bounce,” I say angrily, accusing him of scamming us.
He glares. “Where’s the closest ATM?”
And there we go. Oliver and the mark depart with the promise that they’ll be right back, and then I rush over to Phoebe. One of Bradley’s friends—Pete—cuts off my path.
“Rhett! Man.” Pete swigs his beer, and his shit-eating grin sets every shrill alarm off in my head.
I sidestep.
He follows.
“Move,” I sneer.
He’s taken aback. “Chill. We’re cool.”
I see through him. I know why he’s separating me from Phoebe, and I don’t hide the fact that I know exactly what he’s fucking doing. My gaze is a hacksaw of lethal judgment.
Fear flickers in his eyes. “We’re cool?” His breath is uneven. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”
“Yeah?” I get in his space. Bump up against his chest. He stiffens as I growl against his ear, “You drug her, you piece of shit, and you won’t walk out of here on two fucking feet.” Then I thrust him out of my way, and he’s too startled to fight back.