Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Ever met anyone you liked in Wood Hollow?”
I rolled my eyes. “Dating questions again. Is this high school locker room talk?”
“No, it’s friend talk, and we’re friends, right?”
“Well, the answer is no. I don’t date. I’m not…” I searched for a word and settled on, “…social.”
“I am—social, that is. I haven’t been with anyone since Reg and that was over seven or eight months ago. And since you know about Reg, let’s get this out of the way…we’re friends only.”
“You already told me that.”
“Well, it’s worth repeating. He’s a great guy, but he’s at a different place in life. I’d rather have the friendship than sex with strings.”
“What kind of strings?” I winced. “No. Don’t tell me.”
He chomped on a piece of bread, his eyes bright with amusement. “Why not? It’s nothing bad. If anything, it’s totally understandable. Reg’s kids come first, and that’s how it should be. I was never going to rank anywhere near them. I’d have to be satisfied with coming in second or sometimes third place behind his job. That’s not for me. I’ve done that my whole life. I didn’t want to resent him—he’s doing his best, and I respect that. So…we’re friends.”
“That’s good.”
“But you know what I do resent?” he asked, leaning halfway across the table.
“What?”
“A severe lack of sex in my life and the knowledge that I might not get any for years. Except I did last week and oh, my God…that was very fucking incredible,” Dexter gushed.
I widened my eyes and for some reason, that made him howl with laughter. I slid his wineglass out of reach and pushed the breadbasket toward him. “Eat.”
Dexter lit up when our appetizers arrived. We split salads and shared calamari and shifted to neutral topics. Thank God. A Lady Gaga song on the speakers reminded him of the time he’d seen her in concert in San Francisco. He’d been visiting a friend and had an entertaining story about a drag brunch in the Castro District and the time he’d gone for a run and stumbled into the Folsom Street Fair.
He put his fork down and raised his hand. “I was not prepared for that level of leather and kink. Not even close. I was a mile or so into my run and I only stopped out of curiosity, but holy shit, it was—a lot. I literally saw men fucking in broad daylight.”
“No.”
“Yes. I saw a guy tied to a post, begging someone, anyone, to whip his ass…and tough, burly dudes in chaps and leather vests everywhere. It was…enlightening.”
“So you forgot about your run and decided to join the fun instead, marking the beginning of your leather phase,” I said matter-of-factly.
“No, no, no. Not my kind of kink. I’m more interested in—”
“Don’t. I don’t want to know your kinks.”
“Liar.” He refilled his wineglass, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Everyone wants to know about kinks. It’s human nature.”
“You’ll regret telling me in the morning when you wake up with a hangover.”
“I’m not drunk, I’m tipsy. There’s a big difference. And I’m in the mood to celebrate. This is really happening. My life is going to change, and I’m ready for it.”
I smiled. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks. Can I ask you a personal question?” He snickered at my heavy sigh and lifted his glass. “You can tell me to fuck off, but this is bugging me and—”
“What do you want to know?”
“I get the feeling there’s something sensitive going on with you and Freya. Maybe it’s something from the past that happened while you were together?”
I frowned. “Together?”
Dexter leaned close, dragging his sleeve in his Bolognese sauce. “She’s young for you, but she’s gorgeous and—”
“Whoa! Stop right there. You’re wrong. Very, very wrong.” My brows knit hard enough to give me a headache.
“I am?”
“Yes. Christ, Freya’s like a sister to me. That’s…äcklig!”
Dexter wrinkled his nose. “What does that mean?”
“Gross,” I translated, skewering him with a WTF look. “I told you all along we were old friends. If she was a girlfriend, don’t you think I would have said so? I don’t lie. I don’t tell half-truths. I don’t—”
“Okay, okay! Geez. Lower your voice.” He scanned nearby tables before picking up his glass and swirling the contents. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m not offended. I’m just…surprised. Why would you think that?”
“She leans on you. She adores you. And honestly, I don’t know many men and women who are as close as you two. I get the feeling she’ll want you there when she gives birth and—”
“No way. I won’t do that.” I swiped a hand through my hair in exasperation. “Listen, Freya and I have never been lovers. Ever. She’s very lovely inside and out, but she’s not—I couldn’t think of her that way.”
He set his glass on the table and blew his cheeks out like a chipmunk. “Now I feel like an idiot. I’m sorry for making this weird.”