Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“No word,” I finally answered Forde as my attention moved from Kelly to London.
London wore a pair of frayed denim shorts with her wellies, a green crew neck T-shirt with Leth Sholas printed across the chest, loosely tucked in. Her shoulder-length hair was tied up into a ponytail, and it swished behind her in the slight breeze as she laughed at something Nee said.
My wife looked ridiculously sexy in the shorts and wellies. Like one of those festival girls. Heat thrummed through me as she felt me staring, her big smile softening into something sultrier as she returned my gaze.
“Fuck, I’m surrounded by men who are simps for their women,” Forde scoffed.
I frowned, not knowing what a simp was.
Ramsay apparently did. “Our women want us back, fuckface.”
I snorted at Forde’s offended expression, but my amusement died when Ramsay explained a simp was a desperate, submissive male showering their unreciprocated love interest with attention.
“You are a fuckface.”
“Uh!” Forde gaped at me. “You two are very sensitive today.”
“You just called us simps.” Ramsay glowered. “Fuckface.”
“Stop calling me fuckface. Christ, you’re as bad as Cammie.” Forde scowled in the direction of said blond.
Curious, I nudged him. “What’s up with that? How come you two are always at each other’s throats now?”
“She hates me, don’t you know.” The mechanic looked miserable as he watched Cammie wrap an arm around Tierney’s shoulders, laughing with our women as Aodhan soaked up the female attention.
“But why?” I narrowed my eyes. “Something else going on there?”
“Nope.”
Ramsay met my gaze over the top of Forde’s head, and I could tell he didn’t believe him either.
Still not happy about being called a simp, I pushed a little. “I haven’t really seen you with other women lately …”
He side-eyed me. “How would you know, locked up in your house with your wife?”
Ramsay made a noise of agreement. “Well, I haven’t been locked up, and I haven’t seen you with other women.”
Forde grimaced. “Not you too. I used to be able to rely on you for keeping your nose out of people’s business.”
“Doesn’t look like you’ve got much business going on.” Ramsay took a swig of his drink with an innocent shrug.
I rubbed a hand over my mouth to hide my grin.
“I’ve got business going on. Don’t you worry. My business is being handled. Regularly.” Forde’s gaze grew distant with thought. “I think. When was the gig on Scaris? The one with Murray?”
I raised a brow. “Months ago.”
The mechanic pressed a dramatic hand to his chest, looking suddenly ill. “Months? How many months?”
“A few.”
“Fuck.” He seemed stunned. “My business hasn’t been handled. I’m … I’m a …”
“Simp?” Ramsay asked blandly, gesturing with his cup toward Cammie.
I gave a bark of laughter, drawing London’s quizzical stare.
Forde huffed, “Fuck no. I’ve just … accidentally become celibate, apparently. But it’s fixable.”
I snorted. “You call a few months celibate?”
“Aye!”
“Och, that’s nothing. Try eighteen months.”
Forde grabbed my arm, appalled. “Mate, did that happen to you?”
I shrugged, unabashed.
“I am so sorry.”
“It wasn’t a terminal illness. It was when Jill and I were having problems.” My gaze moved back to my bride. “And then I went eleven months without before I met London.”
“Why? You were single.”
“Aye, but casual sex is rubbish. It doesn’t compare to being with the woman you love.”
“Fuck off.” Forde turned to Ramsay, searching for McRae’s agreed incredulity. He didn’t find it. Ramsay gave a nod, eyes on his woman. “Fuck. Off.” Forde repeated in disbelief.
I grabbed my friend by the back of the neck and squeezed. “You should try it sometime. It’ll blow your mind.”
Forde chuckled and pulled away from me, watching Cameron McQuarrie with an intensity that signaled the possibility of an incoming storm on Leth Sholas.
After all, Forde was Quinn’s best mate and Cammie was Quinn’s wee sister.
48. Murray
London found me with Kelly at a crafts stall. My daughter had traipsed across the field to beg me to buy her beads to make something called friendship bracelets.
Kelly looked uncharacteristically annoyed by London’s appearance. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
London took one look at what we were buying and broke into a wide smile. “Are you making me a friendship bracelet?”
“You weren’t supposed to know.”
My wife’s eyes grew shimmery with emotion. “You are the sweetest. I’ll love it, I promise.”
Honestly, it was like they were speaking another language. How London knew immediately about friendship bracelets and whatever greater meaning there was to them, I didn’t know … but I also didn’t care because it was just so gratifying to see how close the two of them had grown.
“After you’re done here, how would you feel about leaving early? I thought we could get some ingredients to make paella. Perfect summer food.” London rubbed her hands together in anticipation.
Kelly shrugged. “Sure! Can Anna and Lucas come?”
“I’m okay with that.” London looked to me.
I nodded but reached out to stroke London’s flushed cheek. “Is there a reason you want to leave early?”