Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I grunted.
“No? Not you?”
“If Sam and I ever got divorced, it would be a cold day in hell before I ever walked down the aisle again. I mean really, what would be the point?”
“Oh, you’re preaching to the choir,” Aaron agreed.
I thought of something then and turned to him, but before I could get the words out, I realized it was inappropriate and closed my mouth.
“Oh, whatever it is, just spit it out,” he ordered, gesturing for me to go ahead.
“Do you and Duncan have a prenup, or does he get half of everything if you guys ever call it quits?”
He scowled at me.
“I told you I shouldn’t have asked, but you made me.”
“I did not.”
“Yeah-huh.”
“Oh dear God,” he groaned.
“Well?”
“Against the better judgment of my entire team of lawyers, no. We have no prenup.”
I snickered.
“What?”
“I just mean, wow. If the sex goes and you get super boring, he’s outta there and he can keep his lifestyle exactly as it is.”
“I’m going to have you murdered,” he said flatly.
I scoffed.
“Hey,” Duncan said as he walked up beside his husband, leaning in to give him a kiss before putting a hand on the small of his back.
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” I assured Aaron.
He just smiled into his glass.
A bit later, when dinner was served, I made a plate and took a seat out on the balcony. After a minute, a man I didn’t know took a seat close. I noted that his plate had far less food on it than mine did.
“Hi,” he greeted me, smiling sheepishly.
“Hello,” I said, grinning back before offering him my hand. “I’m Jory.”
He wiped his hands on his napkin first, then took my hand and shook. “Carwood Brower, but you can call me Car.”
I nodded, and he let go of my hand. “So how do you know Dane, Car?”
“Oh, I don’t really,” he rushed out. “And honestly, I’m a little intimidated by him.”
“That happens,” I agreed.
“My brother knows Aja. He works with her at the university. He brought me along tonight with him and his wife to get me out of my comfort zone.”
“Ah. Well-meaning siblings. That’s nice.”
“Is it?”
I chuckled. “And what is it you do?”
He grimaced.
“You don’t want to talk about it? Is it because you don’t work? Still living at home with your parents, and that’s why your brother dragged you here? Doesn’t want you home binge-watching Netflix and eating day-old pizza in the basement?”
“Holy crap. You put that all together?”
I couldn’t help laughing. The horror on his face was hysterical.
“And good Lord, no,” he said, chuckling. “I work at the Field Museum in their mythology department. I have a PhD in folklore, so I put together the information for the exhibits.”
“Oh. I was there not too long ago, and there was the druid exhibit about all their beliefs and customs. Did you work on that one?”
“I did,” he replied, and his kind face lit up, but he accidentally let some lasagna slip off his fork and down the front of his dress shirt. “Crap,” he muttered, glancing around like he was worried and then putting his plate down and starting on the stain with his cloth napkin.
“No, no, no, don’t do that,” I directed. “You should take it off, and we’ll get it washed.”
“I—my sister-in-law was just certain something like this would happen. She warned me not to embarrass them here.”
“She sounds like a winner,” I assured him sarcastically. “Come on, we’ll eat in the laundry room.”
Dane and Aja’s laundry room was fancier than any room in my house and bigger than a few of them as well.
“This is bigger than my first apartment,” Carwood informed me.
“Same,” I agreed.
He took off his jacket, then his shirt, leaving him in a sleeveless tee, handed it to me, and I used all the fancy gadgets on Dane’s washer and his special enzyme stain-busting whatever it was and shot and rinsed until the tomato sauce was gone. I gave it a quick rinse, and then into the dryer it went.
“This is very kind of you,” he said, glancing at his plate and then at me. “And I have to say that normally, beautiful men like you do not speak to larger specimens like myself.”
I smiled at him.
“Is it too much to hope that you like chubby men?”
“I’m actually married,” I told him, “but were I not, I would very much consider going out with you, Car. A man who can keep my mind engaged is the kind who interests me.”
He nodded and smiled.
“Eat your food before it gets cold,” I said as I hopped up on the counter and went back to eating my dinner. “You know, I am going to speak to them about tomato sauce at a party going forward. I mean, really, what is that about?”
He laughed softly.
“At least it wasn’t salsa this time. Do you have any idea how many bowls I’ve dragged my sleeves through?”